


Lights Out

by thorduna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Complete, Consensual Rough Sex, Consensual Sex, Forgiveness, Fuck Or Die, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Reconciliation, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Violence, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorduna/pseuds/thorduna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Avengers.</p><p>Brought in chains back to Asgard, Loki has a choice - marry Thor or die. He chooses life... for a moment.</p><p><i>“And to think they call </i>me<i> the monster. What are you, really, Thor? How deep does this perversion of yours run? How did you hide it so well? You are not as golden now, are you, Odinson? Never have been. I am quite peeved that I missed this. Imagine the Hel I could have turned your life into if you had revealed yourself sooner.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

**_"If only it were possible to love without injury."_ **

**_  
_Graham Greene**

**  
**

Loki paces the room like an angry tiger, stopping only to shoot Thor a look full of hatred and to tear the collar of his ceremonial robes open, apparently so flushed with rage that he needs more air to burn.

 

Thor's tongue is dry and sticking to the roof of his mouth despite the cups of mead he drank.

 

Now is the time.

 

He cannot keep his secret any longer.

 

“What?” Loki sneers at him, catching Thor's gaze.

 

“There is something you need to know.”

 

He looks away then and clears his throat because his voice was hoarser than he expected. Loki ceases his pacing and a small frown appears on his face for just a moment.

 

“I cannot... I cannot have you believe...” he stops, words failing him. Loki's eyebrows are raised and Thor humourlessly realizes that Loki has absolutely no idea of what Thor is going to say.

 

“This marriage,” Thor tries again, “was not of my making. Father conceived the plan without consulting me. In that maybe, we stand on the same ground.”

 

“Yes, you are the picture of inno-” Loki jumps in with a nasty curve of his lip but Thor will not be interrupted.

 

“But I love you. I've always loved you. I've loved you as a brother, but also... more. Desired you since I knew what desire was. And it's selfish of me, I know, but I cannot lie about it any longer.”

 

Loki blinks slowly and this marks the last second of Thor's foolish hope.

 

Because what he said is true – he simply cannot deceive Loki now. He might have hid his feelings from his brother, but not from his husband. It would be inconceivably unfair. And that is his main reason for this disclosure, but there is also more, so shameful that he doesn't even want to put it into words. Hope. Hope that maybe Loki was hiding the same desires. That maybe the Norns cursed them with brotherhood and love alike, forcing them to yearn in mutual secret. And that in this moment, Loki will finally dare let on what he feels.

 

A heavy goblet flies through the air and hits Thor square between the eyes.

 

“I will kill you!” Loki shrieks. “You disgusting piece of stone giant's dung!”

 

And then he is upon Thor, raining down blows, drawing blood with nails, curling fists to pummel Thor's face. Thor fights back only meagerly, raising his arms as the basest of defences.

 

“Not your plan? _Not your plan_?! You tell me you didn't plan this but that you...you... ugh!” Loki is spitting in rage that makes his previous state look like perfect calm. He has Thor backed up against a wall, kicking at his shins and burrowing his fists into Thor's stomach so hard he bends over.

 

Thor doesn't fight back, because he knows he deserves it. This and more. Loki screams every insult known to the Nine Realms at Thor for long minutes, his hands smashing into every accessible part of Thor's skin.

 

It's all he can do.

 

His magic is bound to Thor's will, one of the results of the ancient marriage ceremony they had endured just hours before. Ancient and decidedly un-equal, fashioned to force submission of one party to the other. A relic from times harsher than these, from times of endless war. It is Loki's punishment for what he did to Jotunheim and Midgard. The memory of the All-Father speaking the sentence with cold, merciless eyes is fresh in both of their minds. Death or submission, those were the terms.

 

Finally exhausted, Loki steps away and Thor slumps against the wall, blood dripping from several cuts on his face, but he barely feels them. Neither is he terribly concerned about the bruises that probably will soon bloom all over his torso and legs. It's his brother he cares about.

 

Loki is watching him from a couple of steps away, breathing hard and clenching his bloodied fists.

 

“I'm sorry,” Thor croaks and he knows it's probably the most useless thing he has ever said.

 

“Are you,” Loki spits.

 

“I am sorry to cause you pain and I am sorry to make you do this. I am sorry for sharing my own shameful burden with you.”

 

It's not enough of course, nothing could ever be enough, but he is glad that he said this. That he at least attempted to explain.

 

Loki's face splits into a manic grin and he shakes his head. “No. No. I will not. I will not stand for this.”

 

He pauses then, laughing with an edge of madness. “And to think they call _me_ the monster. What are you, really, Thor? How deep does this perversion of yours run? How did you hide it so well? You are not as golden now, are you, Odinson? Never have been. I am quite peeved that I missed this. Imagine the Hel I could have turned your life into if you had revealed yourself sooner.”

 

Thor shuts his eyes as if that would stop the storm of words coming his way. He can hardly draw breath for the terror he feels.

 

“But as it is, I will not let you do this. I will not give you the satisfaction. I will rather _die_.”

 

And Thor's eyes snap open and he takes an unconscious step from the wall towards Loki. Because he knows Loki is not being metaphorical. In fact, there is a very real possibility that Loki will be dead at dawn, such is the nature of their bond; it must be sealed. And he thought... he thought Loki _accepted_ this. That he made his choice – to live, no matter what the circumstances.

 

“No,” Thor breathes and then his vision is helplessly filling with tears that soon spill down his cheeks and he cannot control his face, cannot stop it from crumbling. It's just not Loki's choice he weeps for, it's his own as well. The one he will make.

 

“Oh yes,” Loki mocks. “I think we shall test the truth of this arrangement's magic.”

 

“No,” Thor repeats, more firmly and he wants to be the one to die when he sees Loki take an involuntary step back.

 

The malicious humour is quickly fleeing Loki as he watches Thor wipe the mixture of tears and blood from his face and straighten up, squaring his shoulders as if going to battle. He's not sure though if he can keep this up for what he really wants to do is fall to his knees and beg until his throat is sore.

 

“I wish more than anything that all the realms could see your hypocrisy,” Loki hisses as he keeps on retreating from Thor. “That you would be revealed for what you are, a perverse, disgusting beast.”

 

“Please,” Thor presses on. “Do not throw your life away because of me.”

 

“My life?” Loki asks, incredulous. “What is there left in my life other than being your pet?”

 

“Everything you wish there to be.”

 

“Well I _wish_ for you to keep your dirty hands off me, how about that?”

 

“I will not act on my desires, I swear! We needn't do more than necessary... just the spell, Loki. Just _please_ , let us complete the bond. I cannot lose you, brother, not again!”

 

“All about you, isn't it?” Loki growls. “ _You_ want me alive and _you_ want to stick your dick in me and I will not indulge you any longer, I've done far too much of that in my entire life.”

 

“You agreed,” Thor says, trying to sound calm. “You participated in the ritual. You chose life. It's my fault that you feel differently now and I will fix my mistakes. I should have never said anything.”

 

“Oh no, no, I am quite glad that you exposed yourself so,” Loki smiles sharply. “It will bring me great pleasure in my last hours to know what a base beast you really are, far lower than even _I,_ the only one who ever had some sense to see you clearly, could imagine.”

 

“You will choke on your tongue and your blood will boil in your veins. Did you know that? Did you know that these are the terms? And then you will go to Hel, Valhalla out of your reach for eternity.”

 

Loki shrugs, though there is a slight twitch to one of his eyelids. “It will be over soon enough. Preferable to centuries at your mercy. I shudder to imagine what other deviant appetites you carry in your heart if you lust after one you claim to be your brother.”

 

And Thor almost wavers on his feet as the centuries of secrecy and guilt become so exposed. There is no salvation for what he feels, no apology, no forgiveness. Every blade formed by Loki's tongue strikes precisely, because for once, his brother doesn't even need to lie. The truth is the cruellest weapon.

 

And yet.

 

Yet he walks forward, his hand already reaching to undo the strap that holds Mjolnir to his hip.

 

“Thor,” Loki warns, stepping back. “Don't. Find just a sliver of the honour you have pretended to have for a millennium and let me die.”

 

Thor shakes his head. “You will not die because of my shame. Tell me, if I kept on pretending that bedding you held the same repulsion to me as it does to you, would you have consented?”

 

Loki's silence is answer enough. His eyes flick all over the room, seeking a way out.

 

And then they both move at the same time, Loki leaping with quick steps in the direction of the balcony, Thor pouncing on Loki and catching him by the waist.

 

And Loki's angry yelp has just enough fear underlying it that it breaks Thor's heart.

 

“I'm sorry,” he repeats mindlessly as he wrestles Loki onto the bed. “I'm so sorry.”

 

And he feels like at any second, Mjolnir will drop from his hand and refuse him, that's how much his hand shakes as he deposits her onto Loki's back, trapping him face down on the mattress.

 

The last time he restrained Loki so, he tried to kill himself mere minutes after.

 

There is a small part of Thor that wants to rage at the whole universe, at the Norns, at his father for insisting this is the only way. But the rest of him is drowning in sorrow that almost makes him feverish with its intensity.

 

He cannot win. Either he will let Loki die, for the magic they are bound by will kill him with the first rays of sunshine if they do not consummate their marriage or he will violate his own brother without any chance for forgiveness.

 

He is selfish. He will rather have Loki live and hate him than suffer through losing him. Again.

 

“I'm sorry,” he says for the final time. “My only hope is that in time, whether it be centuries or millennia, you will look around you and appreciate that you live.”

 

“I swear by the Norns that you will not see that day come because I will murder you the second you take the blasted hammer off me.”

 

Thor is so relieved to hear Loki cursing at him heartily that he finds the courage to reach under his brother's trapped form and unbutton his trousers. He is kicked viciously for his efforts, but he manages to pull the garment down.

 

He takes the oil from the night stand and settles over Loki's thighs. There is still the occasional kick of Loki's heels that reaches his back, but it's fine. Good even. For all his lust of past centuries, he finds no enjoyment in this.

 

Almost.

 

His eyes are drawn to the curve of firm buttocks underneath him, white and smooth, but he only tucks the view away deep down into his mind. What he does is bad enough without leering. He pours a lot of the oil to Loki's skin and, biting his lip hard, he slides one finger in.

 

Loki ceases the kicking and tenses up. He stays quiet and motionless as Thor works the one finger carefully in and out and only speaks again when Thor adds another.

 

“By Ymir's hairy balls, would you hurry up?!” He emphasises his demand by renewed bout of squirming, but Thor catches him firmly by the hip.

 

“I will not hurt you... hurt your body. So stay still.”

 

And it's a mistake; he should have known. Telling Loki to stay still is as good as inviting him to thrash until his last breath. And that's what he does, fighting the immovable weight of Mjolnir as well as Thor's hold.

 

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Loki spits. “By the Norns, you are the most stupid and pathetic creature I have seen in my life. Do you think this matters? Do you think it matters that you spare a bit of my skin and muscle after you have ruined everything I am or ever was?”

 

There is nothing for Thor to say to this – maybe it's true, maybe Loki is just trying to hit him where he knows it will sting, but either way, words cannot fix it.

 

And so he continues gently stretching Loki, drenching him in oil and loosening his muscles until he is confident there will be little pain.

 

He knows he is doomed when he eases down his own clothing. He is hard, Norns damn him. His mind might be consumed by guilt and lingering horror at his own actions, but his blood tells another story. His blood has tasted his brother's skin, his warmth, his scent. He kneels between Loki's spread thighs and lowers himself, pulling Mjolnir off his back and replacing the weight with his own body.

 

Loki bucks against him and tries to wriggle away, but it's no good; Thor has him.

 

“Forgive me,” he whispers and guides himself in. Loki lets out a groan that sounds more annoyed than painful and goes somewhat still.

 

“Oh go on,” he sneers. “Enjoy yourself. I will never forgive you for this.”

 

Thor slides his cock shallowly in and out, never really going too deep. There is no need. Loki keeps talking, keeps cursing at him and showering him with sharp words, but there is noise in Thor's ears and it takes him mere minutes to come, flooding Loki with his seed and sealing the bond. His nose brushes the hair at the nape of Loki's neck as he exhales and the sensation gives him some comfort, but simultaneously drives the dagger deeper. When they were brothers, he had the right for small affections; touches, hugs, even the occasional peck on the cheek when they were younger. Lovely, friendly things.

 

Now he has ruined it all and he has forfeited his right to everything but the knowledge that Loki lives.

 

 

* * *

 

In the next months, Loki feels with finality that he has been established as the Norns' personal laughing stock.

 

He doesn't see Thor at all for the first couple of days; he is sure Thor is avoiding him as hard as he can and he personally is more than happy to just hole in his rooms and regroup. It's been more than a year since he's gotten proper rest. More than a year since he could stop and think for more than mere minutes.

 

And so he sleeps and eats and spends long hours soaking in hot water, staring through the mist that rises from the bath and sifting through his jumbled thoughts.

 

But barely a week later, having just returned from an oddly unsatisfying lunch with his mother (she let him rant and complain, but a smile played on her lips all the while and he was disappointed by the lack of sympathy he got from her. Her sons were married, why doesn't she abhor it?), he runs into Thor in the hallway leading to their rooms. He stands there awkwardly, looking through open doors to his own chamber and Loki gets the distinct feeling that all that is missing from this image is Thor scratching his head in confusion.

 

He ignores him and walks into his own rooms, only to be stopped by shock on the threshold.

 

His rooms have been emptied and disassembled.

 

He turns on his heel and connects his fist with Thor's unsuspecting teeth. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing!” Thor protests, holding his chin with a flicker of pain appearing in his expression. “My rooms are-”

 

They are interrupted by a guard approaching.

 

“My lords,” he bows briefly. “Allow me to escort you to your new chambers. The All-Father's orders.”

 

Oh and curse that thrice damned son of a Jotun whore.

 

Loki grits his teeth as they walk through the spacious, beautifully decorated new chambers. A shared bedroom, a couple of private rooms, a bath, a balcony that encompasses the whole girth of the tower they are in. It's elegantly furnished and filled with a mixture of their possessions.

 

Loki will set it on fire as soon as possible, even if he has to use a flint to do it.

 

Later that night, he stares at the dark ceiling, too spiteful to fall asleep. Next to him (well, not quite next to him, the bed is ridiculously huge and they are each at the far sides of it) Thor is quietly, steadily breathing. He has acted as if walking on eggshells during the entire evening as they attempted to find a rhythm of sharing a living space for the first time in over eight centuries. Not that Loki really tried to make it easy. He claimed for himself the library and one sitting room, guilt-tripping Thor into letting him seal the rooms with his magic. Then he proceeded to threaten disembowelment if Thor touched his things. Or him.

 

Thor started babbling false reassurance in response.

 

“You have my word that I will keep to myself. I wouldn't-”

 

“You wouldn't?” Loki interrupted viciously. “You _did_ , if memory serves.”

 

Thor went deadly pale and hid in the bathroom, leaving Loki to smile with satisfaction.

 

And so having seen Thor all but slink into bed, acting as if he wanted to disappear, but still somehow managing to fall asleep shorty after, Loki feels a bit disgruntled that Thor gave him no further reason to strike out.

 

He's thought about it. Making Thor's life miserable is a vice that he now can indulge in fully.

 

He is angry. Furious. Once again, his life isn't his; maybe it never was, only now it's been made painfully obvious. He is angry that Thor has managed to retain his flawless reputation while hiding such monstrosity in his heart while Loki's darkness was torn out from him and paraded for all the universe to see.

 

But there is a secret core to his anger, burning with the bitter rage of thousand suns and he will never, ever reveal it.

 

Despite himself, despite everything, he is grateful. Deep down, he has the desire to live, a desire that he lost as he let go of the hold he had on the Bifrost and that flared again after weeks, maybe months of floating through empty space. He would have died if Thor didn't dare touch him, his spite and disgust overruling all else. But Thor did dare and Loki is grateful.

 

And the colossal unfairness and irony of it threatens to eat him alive from the inside. That somehow even when Thor does something abominable, the universe will turn it into a blessing. Force Loki to appreciate the violation as if it was a gift. It was the same when Thor caused the war with Jotunheim – the only lasting result was Thor changed, a brash prince becoming a worthy king. Loki wants to tear this speckle of relief from his heart. He wants to be nothing but broken, mad thing, destroyed by the lustful hands of his brother just to see it ruin Thor as well. But he isn't.

 

He is a living god and he _will_ make his own way.

 

 

* * *

 

Loki sleeps well once he gets used to a presence beside him. Thor only snores when he is drunk, something that Loki learned centuries ago during their many trips and expeditions. Since their wedding, he only went pub crawling with his friends once and upon coming back, he stayed in the ante-chamber for the night, sprawled with clothing half unbuttoned on a sofa that was a bit too small for his heavy form. Loki stood on the threshold for a while in the morning when he woke (Thor still in deep slumber), watching him.

 

_How thoughtful._

 

It only served to make him mad, of course. He would have quite enjoyed scolding Thor for disturbing him.

 

But this night, he is torn from sleep quite violently. He jerks awake, confused, trying to place to noise.

 

And it's a scream.

 

Thor's scream. He's never really heard anything like that from his brother before (or maybe he did, but he's not willing to relieve the memory, the memory of Thor's pleading “no” being swiftly replaced by deafening silence of space). Thor shouts and grunts and growls. He doesn't _scream_.

 

Loki turns, disbelieving. Thor is sitting on the bed, hair wild around his sweat covered face. The blankets have slipped from him. He is staring right ahead, panting lightly... and shivering?

 

“What in the Hel are you doing?” Loki complains, unwilling to show how disturbed he actually is.

 

Thor turns to him as if he only just realized Loki is there and Loki doesn't like the burning, but unfocused gaze Thor levels at him.

 

“Brother, oh Norns, are you well?” Thor asks and his tone is off, way off. He's probably not really awake. Loki scrambles back when Thor reaches for him. He is not quick enough, but all Thor does is grasp him gently by the neck, an old gesture of affection (that however Loki cannot see innocently now for it's quite intimate when he thinks about it. He doesn't even want to consider the pleasure it must have given Thor over the centuries).

 

“Are you well?” Thor repeats, more insistently and brings his other palm to Loki's cheek, stroking him lightly.

 

“I... what? Er, yes,” Loki stutters, knowing that he should probably play along until Thor wakes, lest he fuel his apparent nightmare, but at the same time bothered that he should say he is well when he's, in general, not.

 

He reaches forward and slaps Thor, not too hard, but it makes a pleasing sound and Thor blinks, coming to.

 

He snatches his hands back as if burned and an expression of pure horror appears on his face.

 

“Loki-”

 

“Save your breath. I didn't expect any better from the likes of you.”

 

“I merely dreamt that you were hurt, I didn't mean to-”

 

“And who hurt me in your dream, _brother_?”

 

Thor's mouth snaps shut and he shakes his head in defeat, looking down, then speaks again, so quietly that Loki almost doesn't hear him. “Not me, but what does that matter? We're not dreaming now.”

 

And Loki lies basking in Thor's pain until morning light.

 

* * *

 

 

To be fair, there is really nothing for Loki to do but mess with Thor (and if said “messing” requires watching, stalking, _obsessing,_ well, he's still better off than being _in love,_ which is what Thor is). He doesn't really have any friends and some companions of choice he used to have avoid him like the plague now. He may have some mandatory title of a prince, but he has no duties to go with it. You don't put a traitor in charge, even if it should be something as simple as errands in various parts of Asgard or formal public appearances. And so soon he has a perfect grasp on Thor's habits, in much bigger detail than he had as his brother.

 

Thor wakes up after dawn and takes his breakfast in the kitchens or in the main hall with his friends, never with Loki, because neither of them are ready to deal with each other so early. If his schedule is free for the day, he goes to the training grounds where he either pounds things or his friends to the ground or he exerts himself by giving lessons to young soldiers. This choice of free time is simple for Loki to map; there are several places from which he can watch the grounds unseen or occasionally he comes and sits there in plain sight, waiting for any sort of opportunity to create disturbance.

 

It's harder when Thor has duties, especially lessons and conversations with Odin. Loki cannot spy on those. But he still knows where Thor has been and it's easy to see that Thor often comes from these lessons on edge, whether from boredom or annoyance or something more complicated. He makes a point of always driving Thor into worse moods.

 

His game is simple.

 

Sometimes he plays on Thor's guilt. Sometimes he riles him into anger, only to subtly remind him of his transgressions, earning himself more guilt. It works like a charm.

 

“I need you to allow me a certain spell,” he says one evening. Thor watches him warily, sitting by the fire with a parchment in his hands.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Lubrication charm. I know you prefer to do it _by hand,_ but not every partner is quite as giving.”

 

Thor's movements are slow and controlled as he gets up and walks out of the door, back rigidly straight. Loki supposes that even Thor might in time learn to not be goaded _that_ obviously. He doesn't come back that night, which doesn't faze or surprise Loki, but he thinks it's peculiar when he prepares for bed the next evening and there is still no sign of Thor.

 

He finds it utterly ridiculous when he tosses and turns for half the night, unconsciously discomforted by the lack of company and unable to sleep. He tells himself that he tolerates Thor's presence in bed at best – in fact, by all rights he shouldn't be able to bear it at all, considering that Thor fucked him without his consent, something that he should take his time recovering from. But he's spent so much energy using the fact against Thor that it became almost mundane in his own mind. A blade that had long since become dull on his side, while still cutting Thor as a razor.

 

Well.

 

Nobody ever said that Loki was in his right mind.

 

In the morning, he goes to subtly investigate the training grounds, the main hall, all possible places that Thor might grace with his presence, but he finds nothing.

 

The next day there are whispers flowing through the palace and from distance, Loki watches Sif mount a horse, her face grim, and set out of the city.

 

_Where did the fool go?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I did not expect this story to get so much positive feedback. Thank you all.

Loki spends the day lounging in bed and snooping through Thor's things. He muses what drove Thor away – jealousy or guilt? Was it Loki's crudeness or his hint that he takes lovers? He shall put it through an experiment when Thor gets back.

 

After sundown, guards pound on his door and one of them wordlessly hands him a note. It's his mother's writing and she tells him that Thor has been gravely injured and that Loki is to visit him in the healing chambers immediately. There are no details or explanations, but Loki fills in the blanks on his own. Thor tried to vent by smashing things, as he always does. And the _thing_ probably fought back more than he could handle.

 

Good.

 

He makes his way to the healing chambers without any rush, giving wide smiles to everyone he meets.

 

Thor's condition surprises him a little. He doesn't think he's ever seen Thor this beat up and it rouses something in him. It doesn't feel quite like satisfaction, but that makes no sense. 

 

“You needn't have come,” Thor rasps, his bruised neck and cut face making speech hard, but the implication of gratefulness is still apparent in his tone.

 

“I didn't want to, but Mother made me,” Loki says bluntly, sitting down on a chair by Thor's bed and leaning forward so that Thor can see him well. “I listen to her, you know. As much as I am able to listen to anyone.”

 

Loki keeps talking, taking advantage of Thor's inability to leave or shut him up. “I don't consider Odin my father, no, there was always this distance in the way he treated me and perhaps even in your daftness you picked up on it. But her? She will always be my Mother, just like she will be yours. Does that make you happy? Shouldn't you be pleased for me? Ah, but then there is the pesky issue of you being... well, I shouldn't mention that in public.”

 

And Thor laughs then, startling Loki. It's a dark, pained sound, one that he didn't know his brother could make.

 

“I'm not sorry you are my brother. I'm merely sorry for hurting you.”

 

“Your apologies are as dull as they are useless.”

 

Thor closes his eyes. “Yes.”

 

Loki frowns at Thor for denying him this fight, contemplating his next words. Thor beats him to it, but he speaks with a slight slur, already falling asleep to heal.

 

“I have missed your voice.”

 

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. So much for indulging in another entertaining argument.

 

On his way out, he is stopped by a blade at his neck. Sif looks furious.

 

“Do you know what he was fighting when I found him?” she asks in a falsely pleasant voice.

 

“I couldn't possibly imagine,” he replies, wondering whether he will be blamed for this somehow – whether she thinks he set a trap for Thor. 

 

“Bilgesnipe. A male one.”

 

And that is odd indeed because male bilgesnipe are far less aggressive than female ones; not to mention that it's been a long time since they posed a true threat to Thor, especially with that hammer of his.

 

As if reading his mind, Sif continues. “Mjolnir was lying there, unused. Thor was hardly fighting back as the beast chewed him up. Whatever you are doing to him, you better stop or I will kill you.”

 

He tilts his head back leisurely, avoiding the sharp edge of the dagger that still threatens him.

 

“What makes you think it is my actions what drove him to it?”

 

She jerks the blade so that it rests against his skin, stinging. “What else would it be?”

 

He leans into the steel, turning his head to face her, drawing blood.

 

“His own.”

 

Oh and the Norns have truly blessed her – strength, wit, instinct. She frowns and he sees the doubt that flickers on her face.

 

“Good day, my lady,” he smirks and walks away, knowing her gaze follows him.

 

This could be quite interesting.

 

* * *

 

 

He is coming from a short walk in the gardens when he sees Thor again, this time in their rooms. Apparently Thor has just been released from the healing chambers and took a bath; Loki used to do that too on the rare occasions he wound up there. The place has an _odour._ He is naked, hand reaching into an open drawer full of tunics and looks positively startled to see Loki.

 

Loki watches him with interest – he seems ridiculously tall without armour to make him wider and there are many glowing red scars marring his skin, most prominently on his back where three long gashes cross the entire expanse of it, but there is more; nothing has been spared.

 

“Hmm,” Loki hums. “Beautiful.”

 

Thor turns away, pulling out a grey tunic.

 

“I will assume you mean my wounds.”

 

Loki scrunches up his face dramatically. “You know, it's no fun if you are being smart.”

 

He stalks forward to stand close to Thor who pretends to ignore him, searching for leggings in another drawer. Loki cocks his head, invading Thor space and he is filled with gleeful mirth. It should be the other way round. He should be cowering in Thor's closeness and yet it is Thor who is uncomfortable and maybe even scared.

 

“So how did you always imagine it?”

 

Thor doesn't ask what Loki means, but his jaw is clenching and he is making a mess of the folded garments, his hand mechanically grasping for nothing at all as he stares down, unseeing.

 

“Don't.”

 

“Why ever not? Would you deny me my curiosity? Pursuit of knowledge is after all one of the few activities left to me.”

 

Thor steps away, dressing hastily. It's a sweet victory to make the mighty Thor run.

 

Finally covered, Thor faces Loki.

 

“I thought you would have learned by now that truth only causes you pain.”

 

And Loki's jaw drops and, curse all, his face is reddening. He feels like he's been slapped. Thor looks a little apologetic, but doesn't say anything else, walking away. As soon as his footsteps fade, Loki overturns the damned dresser and kicks it until the wood splinters. 

 

* * *

 

 

After this episode, Thor seems to decide that the best course of action is to avoid Loki at any cost. He becomes so elusive in his habits that it takes Loki a few days to figure out that Thor has taken to flying with Mjolnir to their balcony and hiding in one of the sitting rooms that don't belong to Loki until he is sure his brother is asleep.

 

That seems a bit extreme even for Thor's brooding moods. Loki mostly minds because he grows bored.

 

Thor does however still come to their shared bed.

 

It's easy to feign sleep one evening. Loki is curled on his side, his back turned to the rest of the bed, muscles relaxed and breathing steady. Thor moves quietly through the room, the loudest sound he makes is the soft rustle of clothes dropping to the floor.

 

Loki is reminded that Thor is not only a warrior, but also a hunter.

 

Then Thor lies down and Loki listens to his breathing for more than two hours, trying to ensure he is completely lost to the world. He struggles with the stillness. It's not that he has to fight sleep, he has a better control of himself than that, but there is nothing for him to do but look into the dark and map the quiet, but undeniable signs of Thor's presence. 

 

It's intimate.

 

He shakes the thought off and proceeds with his plan. Slowly, carefully, he rolls around on the mattress until he crosses the unspoken boundary and enters Thor's half of the bed. If he could use his blasted magic without Thor's permission, he would levitate Thor towards himself, but this will have to do. 

 

He peeks through the dark and is happy to see that Thor is lying on his side, facing Loki.

 

_Did he watch me till he fell asleep?_

 

He slots his back against Thor's form until they touch in a few places and he hopes instincts will kick in.

 

Oh and they do.

 

Thor murmurs sleepily and winds one arm around Loki's waist, pulling him close with a sigh and then stills again, deep, warm breaths spilling over Loki's neck. They are pressed back to chest, Loki even pushes his arse into Thor's lap for the sake of further impudence. Then he smiles into the dark and pulls his knee to his chest before kicking it back, striking Thor's ankle with the heel of his foot.

 

“Let me go!” he shrieks, abandoning any sense of dignity for his purpose. Thor's arms tighten around him for a second as he startles awake and he twists uselessly against the grip, biting his tongue to contain the laughter that threatens to ruin his ruse. Then Thor's arms fall from him and Thor propels himself backwards so hard that he rolls from the edge of the bed and hits the floor. Loki waves his hand to bring some light into the room (this he can do) and sits up, peering down at Thor, face schooled into an expression of badly concealed terror. Thor landed on his face and is pushing himself up on shaking arms but no further than slumping on his knees, covering his face with both palms.

 

And he stays that way. The god of thunder, on his knees, hiding from the world like a child that believes that if he can't see the monsters, the monsters cannot see him either. 

 

Loki's expression slips as Thor doesn't move, save the slight tremors that occasionally ripple across his bare shoulders.

 

“Thor,” Loki says sharply, not appreciating this turn of events. He's not sure what is happening right in front of him. Thor shakes his head minutely in response and then he, curse the Norns, sobs quietly into his hands.

 

And Loki feels like throwing his hands wide in frustration, because this didn't go to plan and there is something nagging on him, a certain sense of wrongness at watching Thor so broken. He's missing a piece. There is something he lacks, knowledge or understanding, because this isn't right. This is not what he calculated.

 

Thor always tries.

 

He has been calling his apologies and explanations and attempts at reconciliation useless and boring, but the truth is, this is what Thor does. He never gives up, even if it's all pointless. But the creature slumped on the floor is filled with obvious defeat. 

 

“Are you trying to make me pity you?” He spits, determined to make Thor talk to him, but the only reaction is Thor shuffling on his knees so that he faces away from Loki and getting up. His hands finally drop from his face, but Loki can't see. And once more, Thor just walks out.

 

_Where is my apology? Where are my promises that this won't happen again? Where is some righteous anger that this could have been my fault as well as this? Who is this man? Who exchanged my brash, bold brother for this trembling excuse of a husband?_

 

This time, it takes Sif almost a week to find him. Loki is notified of his return with a letter from his Mother just like before. Her tone is downright scolding and he is unhappy with her insight, but he walks dutifully to the healing chambers as she bid him.

 

Two Einherjar step smoothly into his way before he can approach the gate of the healing wing.

 

“My lord, if you need healer's assistance, we will send one to you.”

 

He gives the man a hard look. “You are refusing to let me see my... husband.”

 

The other guard speaks up, his tone rough and bordering on insolent. “His specific orders.”

 

And Loki is only there to appease his Mother, he should be able to simply turn on his heel and walk away, happy that he doesn't have to deal with Thor yet. But facing the two men who regard him with badly concealed distaste, knowing that Thor doesn't want to see him... it's too much of a temptation. He smiles and and nods and with a twitch of his fingers, the torches hung on the walls flare and explode, blinding and burning the Einherjar. What a lovely loophole of being allowed to use magic on lighting devices. While the guards are shouting and panicking, he slips around them and bars the doors behind him. Past this point, no one stops him and he slinks into the hall where Thor rests in bed.

 

His head is bandaged, as are his legs which are propped up on many pillows.

 

He doesn't look very upset to see Loki.

 

“I didn't expect you to exert yourself and get past the guards.”

 

“You've been gone for a week, presumably doing something foolish, and then you ban me from seeing you? I hardly think that's fair.”

 

He says this with something akin to honesty – he didn't spend much time planning what he was going to say and this seemed as good a complaint as any.

 

“I would ask just one thing of you,” Thor says and his voice sounds almost strict. “Do not pretend to care. You will gain nothing.”

 

“Oh, you think I worry about your well-being for _your sake_? Odin would execute me if you died.”

 

And it's clear Thor never considered that. He opens his mouth and closes it again, as if thinking better of disagreeing.

 

“I will strive to care more for my life then.”

 

_I will strive to care more for my life then._

 

And Loki thinks about it later than night, in his large, empty bed. Is that supposed to mean that Thor's ill-conceived adventures were more than that? Sif's words resonate in his mind – the beast was chewing him up... Mjolnir lying unused. 

 

“Preposterous,” he scoffs into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of days later, after Thor's release from the healing chambers, Loki lies awake once more, but without any plot in his mind. Instead, he is _sniffing_ the air.

 

There were many issues to reconcile when he and Thor started sharing chambers, but scents were never on the list. Loki knows how Thor smells and he doesn't mind. In fact, right now, with a foreign, suspicious odour hanging in the air, he realizes how familiar and comfortable the normal state is.

 

There is something slightly herbal attacking his nose, falsely sweet and bitter underneath.

 

Thor uses a salve for the gash on his scalp, but that one smells minty and acidic; Loki knows it well because it's perfect for all bruises and cuts, the very height of Asgardian medicine. He's made it and applied it to his own or Thor's skin more times than he can count.

 

In the morning, Thor exits their rooms speedily as usual and Loki goes to investigate. 

 

He finds it right away. 

 

Tucked in the corner of a drawer of Thor's night stand, there is a vial of violet potion. Loki pops the cork, taking a whiff and indeed, this is what disturbed him. 

 

It's a sleeping potion. It brings upon a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

The kind during which you don't sleep-talk, sleep-touch or sleep-cuddle your unwilling bed partners.

 

“Oh Thor, you cheater,” Loki clucks his tongue and goes to get some honey, quite curious what the next night will bring.

 

He doesn't see it, but he guesses Thor took a mouthful of his now-ruined potion while Loki was in the bath, as he is already underneath the covers when Loki comes out, a trail of steam in his wake.

 

Soon after, he learns he misjudged Thor's reasons for acquiring this concoction.

 

Thor doesn't turn on him again, in fact, he stays firmly planted on his side of the bed, rigid, and he merely whimpers slightly in his sleep, but Loki recognizes the signs of a terrible nightmare right away.

 

He lies on his side, head propped up and looks at Thor. His blonde hair is darkened with sweat and every line of his face seems to be blurred by anguish. It gives Loki the impression that he is looking at his brother under water. There are droplets of sweat on his chest as well, where the covers don't reach and lost in thought, Loki stares at the muscular planes.

 

_This is what pressed me onto my face when he took me._

 

He reaches out a hesitant finger and touches the moist skin, just above Thor's nipple. It's a bit cold and not entirely smooth, but not unpleasant either.

 

Next, he tries Thor's cheek. Burning hot, very smooth where the beard ends. 

 

The eyebrows are damp and coarse.

 

Nose is regular temperature and mostly dry. It's not a terribly pretty nose, but it seems to do the rest of Thor's face justice.

 

By the time he's investigating how each of Thor's lips matches the other, it dawns on him what he's doing.

 

He frowns at himself, tucking his thoughts away, and wraps his hand firmly around Thor's throat. He can feel the frantic pulse beating away in a rhythm of a nightmare.

 

“Thor,” he says loudly. Thor's eyes snap open and were it not for the hand restraining him, he would have shot up and done Norns know what. “Wake up.”

 

Thor's heart canters in his panic and Loki waits for him to settle a little and realize what is happening. He doesn't ease the grip he has on Thor and scoots closer. 

 

Thor's gaze finally finds him and he seems lucid enough.

 

“Bad conscience troubling your sleep?” Loki asks, trying not to sound too mocking. Thor swallows and Loki can feel it under his palm.

 

“I suppose, yes.” Thor's voice is strained and rough, both from sleep and the pressure of Loki's hand. He doesn't make a move to shake Loki off him though, in fact, he stays perfectly still. Loki doesn't want to lose sights of Thor's face, but he thinks that if he looked down, he would see Thor's fists wrapped around the sheets for control.

 

“Hmm,” Loki purrs, leaning into Thor, letting his own breath wash over his brother's burning face. “Would you like to earn my forgiveness?”

 

“Are you proposing a bargain?” Thor asks, sounding almost annoyed. He seems to find that idea distasteful.

 

“Probably not in the way you imagine. I am not a maiden to whom you gift a necklace and she lets you fondle her bosom.”

 

Loki of course has no bosom to speak of, but Thor's gaze still slides downwards, watching Loki's lips instead of looking into his eyes, his mind supplying ideas before he can stop them. Loki wonders what those are – does he see himself slaying some magical beast, collecting its valuable parts and then bringing them to Loki, all in exchange for one kiss?

 

It would be a tempting idea if he didn't think even Thor wouldn't manage to believe the affection to be true. He's said as much after all, begging Loki not to pretend. 

 

“My forgiveness,” he continues, “doesn't come in the shape of me spreading my legs for you.”

 

And Thor winces and oh, it's beautiful. Loki should try these suggestions often, because Thor has a vivid imagination and reacts to what Loki says, no matter what the context. He will store this piece of information.

 

“So unless that's all you want from me, maybe you should hear me out.”

 

“Of course that's not all,” Thor growls and it's possibly the most hostile tone he took with Loki since their wedding. “What do you propose?”

 

Loki adjusts his grip on Thor, flexing his fingers lightly to lessen Thor's air supply, just for a second.

 

“You said you wanted me to live. No, not just live, but to come to _cherish_ life. Is that right?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“So look at me. I spend my days lazing about in these rooms, doing nothing. I can't do magic. I've no duties. Everybody mistrusts me. It is not my idea of fulfilling life.”

 

“What would you like to do?” Thor asks in a calm tone. The sweat is drying on his skin and he seems to relax a little. How he manages that with Loki's hand around his throat, Loki doesn't know. “What changes would you have me make?”

 

“I want more of my magic,” Loki says resolutely. “We needn't discuss the details right now, I will present you with specific requests later if you agree. I also wish to travel. And you will allow me to accompany you on some of your duties... of my choice.”

 

And Thor, curse that hopeful fool, smiles almost imperceptibly and nods. “I accept.”

 

“I didn't say what you would get in return yet.”

 

“What I get in return is you being... content.”

 

Inexplicably angry all of sudden, Loki releases Thor and sits back. “Very well then, we are agreed.”

 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor's nose is perfect by the way. Loki is just being a dick.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go! Some violence in this one (firstly something similar as in the first chapter, secondly concerning a third party), but also a bit of respite and mother's wisdom.

It doesn't go smoothly of course. Loki is pleased with his magic allowance and he is somewhat reassured by his preliminary permission to travel, but when he said he wanted to accompany Thor and be able to participate in public affairs, he was merely trying to ease his way for any future plots he might come up with and for which he would need this option.

 

Of course it ended with Thor constantly telling him where and when he was going and asking Loki to come to the point where Loki exploded and they had a shouting match in the hallway.

 

“I may be the trickster and silvertongue, but you far surpass everyone in your ability to twist everything to suit you! I said I wanted to choose where and when to go and you take it as permission to order me around like a dog on leash! It's the same sort of self-conceited, righteous way of thinking that made you ignore my refusal to bend to your desires!” Loki yells, tired of explaining the difference between _possibility_ and _duty_.

 

Thor shuts up then, mouth closing into a grim line and eyes finding the floor. 

 

“You take and take and give nothing in return,” Loki continues quietly. “I don't know what I want more – your death or mine.”

 

“I do not deny it was selfish, but I did what I did because I couldn't bear to see you die!”

 

“And wasn't that just a convenient way to save my life... you claimed to have no part in the All-Father's judgement and even if I believed you, I don't believe for a second that he didn't do this on purpose to please you!”

 

The completely stunned expression of Thor's face makes Loki want to pulls his hair out. The All-Father is a liar, a deceiver, a manipulative old bastard and even his true born son doesn't realize that.

 

“He wouldn't,” Thor stammers. “If he knew-”

 

And Loki can see it – the centuries of fear ruling Thor's thoughts. No doubt he imagined that if he was found out, he would be cast out, shunned. Worst part is that Loki isn't even sure it's true anymore. 

 

“If he knew, he would count on you to put me in my place,” Loki spits, stalking towards Thor.

 

“That is not what I did,” Thor protests, but it's clear his anger is slipping in favour of that hopeless state Loki's seen him in before and it makes him furious. He knows Thor's anger, his carelessness, his stubbornness. Those have been faithful companions of Thor's for most of his life. Desperation was never there. Neither was surrender. 

 

He shoves Thor with both hands as hard as he can and Thor collides with the wall, not putting up a fight. 

 

“Isn't it?” Loki crowds Thor, pining him with an arm underneath his chin. “How did it feel then? What were you thinking?”

 

And Thor is only mutely shaking his head and Loki cannot stand this. He presses the palm of his free hand against Thor's crotch lewdly and laughs when Thor's eyes go wide.

 

“Loki, stop,” Thor begs, beginning to struggle for the first time.

 

“You want me to stop? Oh that's too bad, because this is what _I_ want. How does it feel, Thor?”

 

Thor's hands are on Loki shoulders now and he is pushing him away in earnest, but he's missed his chance – Loki's hold on his throat is secure. Loki feels Thor through his trousers insistently.

 

“Are you not enjoying this? Do you feel sick? Do you feel violated?”

 

“Brother, please-” Thor's voice breaks into a sob and he stops attempting to free himself. He sags so suddenly that only Loki's arm at his throat is preventing him from sliding down the wall. Stunned, Loki jerks back and Thor indeed does fall, lying in a heap on the floor, wrecked with tears.

 

Loki is so startled that he finds himself covering his mouth with his hand, almost unaware of the gesture.

 

_What in the Hel?_

 

And it makes no sense. This is Thor. Loki has seen Thor shed a single tear and then go on trudging through life's misfortune, attempting to carve a new place for himself in a foreign place mere hours after he was told his Father was dead (not to mention the clear implication that Thor was at fault). He has seen Thor face the Destroyer, as a mortal man no less, and look death in the face with nothing more than quiet determination and sad smile. Loki, for all his skills in striking people where it hurts with words, has to his knowledge never made Thor cry... not since they were toddlers and not until they were married.

 

“Thor!” someone yells and Loki turns, not understanding for a moment what he sees. And then it becomes clear – it's Sif with six Einherjar at her back, all running towards them. 

 

“Take _him_ to the cells and prince Thor to the healing rooms!” she orders. Loki can hear Thor croaking _no_ down on the floor, but he is ignored. Loki for his part says absolutely nothing and calmly leaves, two Einherjar flanking him, a third one securing him from behind. Thor is going to have a lot of fun explaining that he is not physically hurt.

 

He doesn't mind being restrained down in the dungeons. He needs to do some thinking and he might do that there as well as anywhere. He sits down, leaning his head against the wall and tries to make sense of what just transpired, but soft footsteps rouse him.

 

He blanches when he sees his Mother approaching.

 

He gets up and bows to her hastily, not daring to look her in the eye. He glimpsed her expression and it did not bode well for him.

 

“Will you listen to what I have to say without telling me that I do not understand the wrongs that have been done to you?” she asks softly.

 

“Yes, Mother.”

 

“Something needs to change, Loki. Something within you. You are refusing to see that what you are doing is only going to lead to destruction and I do not believe even you would like the fallout.”

 

And there is nothing he can say without breaking the promise he just gave her, so he is quiet.

 

“May I ask you some questions?”

 

What she really means, of course, is whether he will answer truthfully. He nods, trying not to fidget.

 

“Has Thor hurt you?”

 

“Yes!” he grits through his teeth immediately, eyes snapping up to meet her gaze. She doesn't seem angry, merely determined, but there is that soft look around her eyes that tell him she cares. She always has.

 

“And have you hurt him?”

 

“It's not the same.”

 

“That's not what I asked.”

 

“Yes,” he admits. “I have.”

 

“Well, there you have it then. I'm sure he is more than willing not to do it again. Can you say the same?”

 

He looks to the side, nervous. “I can try.”

 

She sighs, but doesn't push him to make further promises and he's grateful. He knows he would break them.

 

“Come see me soon. Perhaps in time the three of us can have a nice, decent lunch together.”

 

She's leaving and his nails are digging into his palms as inner fight rages within him. Her presence is at the same time soothing and riling, like ridding one of poison – it hurts, but in the end, it only helps. The temptation to just _ask,_ to be given her wisdom and maybe find some peace... 

 

“Mother,” he calls out when she is almost out of sight, but she stops patiently and turns to him once more. “Why is he so... ”

 

And he trails off because he cannot find the words to describe the incomprehensibly disconsolate state of his brother. The sight of Thor on the floor, shaking in panic or maybe terror is fresh in his mind.

 

She speaks quietly, but with strength and conviction and he doesn't doubt her for a second.

 

“He loves you more than he loves anything in the whole Nine Realms. And I believe you would not find anyone who feels and loves more deeply than he does. He loves you with perseverance of a god and urgency of a man. Do not seek to break such devotion, Loki.”

 

 

 

When two stone-faced Einherjar come to free him that evening, he considers trying to claw their eyes out so that they would lock him back in.

 

Mercifully, Thor isn't in their rooms and Loki pours himself a hefty goblet of wine and lights a fire in the hearth, sitting down with a badly suppressed sigh. 

 

Norns' laughing stock indeed.

 

He's raged and fought and maimed and suddenly it's like he's at the start again. His rage burned out. Destruction at his wake, but he takes no pleasure from it anymore.

 

He's not _sorry_. But he's not satisfied either.

 

His Mother's words are like bells ringing in his head and it's a terrible dissonance they play – because he trusts her and believes in her love, but he cannot reconcile what she told him with what he's lived. Can he?

 

Thor comes in when Loki is on his fourth goblet and he looks right ahead, walking past Loki into the bedroom.

 

“Thor,” Loki calls out before Thor can disappear. He didn't even know he was going to do it before he opened his mouth. Thor's footsteps fade, the sole sign that Thor heard him. He's passed Loki already and Loki didn't turn, so he can't see.

 

He reaches for another goblet from the tray and pours wine to the brim, holding it out meaningfully.

 

And after brief hesitation, Thor takes it.

 

“You're not going to turn it into a snake, are you?” Thor asks and he sounds tired and ragged, but the humour in his tone is apparent.

 

And it's a horrible reminder of that day, but Loki laughs smoothly. “I've learned not to waste good wine.”

 

Thor pulls up a chair and sits down. Their eyes meet for a moment and Thor looks away immediately, leaving Loki to clear his throat awkwardly.

 

“I'm sorry you were taken to the cells,” Thor says after taking a large gulp of wine. “It seems we made quite the scene and the Einherjar were on edge since you attacked the two guards.”

 

Oh, Loki almost forgot about that. Thor never mentioned it even though technically it was within his rights (and maybe even his duties) to correct the loophole. 

 

He just shrugs. “It's to be expected. How did you fare in the healing rooms?”

 

Thor looks straight at him then, tight around the mouth.

 

“I'm serious,” Loki adds. 

 

“Sif thinks you cursed me. The healer gave me salve for bruised neck... and kept my confidence.”

 

Loki drains his drink because what is there to say? He won't say he's sorry.

 

“Well, it's a good thing then that Sif's hatred of me made her forget I cannot harm you with my magic.”

 

“She believes you found a way and I can hardly blame her for that.” Thor's tone is collected and there is no real reproach in it. Loki wonders if Mother went to speak to him as well or if he put himself together on his own. Probably the former. 

 

“No, I suppose I cannot either.”

 

Loki pours them both more wine, collecting courage for his next question.

 

“Why don't you confide in her?”

 

Thor laughs humourlessly and Loki is growing tired of the gloomy sound.

 

“Which part?”

 

“Your other friends, then. I'm quite certain Fandral fucked a cow one time on Vanahaim. He's not one to judge you.”

 

And Loki should really put the wine down now because this did not come out the way he intended it to and Thor's expression is already breaking, this time into anger.

 

He quickly rises his arms, palms up to silence Thor. “I didn't mean to be rude. Or compare myself to a cow,” he tries to smirk to appease Thor.

 

“You _are_ a cow,” Thor murmurs into his goblet.

 

Loki just snorts.

 

“My point is... Volstagg is kind and he will always be on your side. Hogun either judges everyone equally or not at all, I can't quite tell, but it still makes him a good confidant.” 

 

Thor just shakes his head.

 

“I can't.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Loki shrugs. They drink in silence for a while longer and then stumble into bed together and Loki knows it's odd, so different (but ultimately anticlimactic) from the tiptoeing of past weeks, but he doesn't care. It's been a taxing day.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes, he notices three things – his head hurts a little, Thor is still beside him even though it's light out and there is someone knocking on the door.

 

No, not knocking anymore. _Opening_.

 

He raises his head and is met with the sight of apologetic looking Fandral hovering at the doorstep. Over his shoulder, he sees two emptied pitchers of wine of two goblets, one overturned and he has to wonder just how accurate his memories of last night really are. And something in Fandral's expression tells him that he saw the mess too and is making certain conclusions.

 

“My apologies,” Fandral says. “Thor, were you not going to meet us on the training grounds?”

 

“Do you normally stick your nose to your prince's bedroom if he is late? Have you no sense of subordination?” Loki scolds Fandral, feeling particularly annoyed.

 

“Sorry, Fandral, I overslept. I will be there shortly,” Thor says resolutely, ignoring Loki's complaining. Fandral gives them one more searching look and leaves with a light bow.

 

Loki drops his head back into his pillow. 

 

A few seconds tick in silence and Thor doesn't move. Loki can basically feel the tension.

 

“I thought you were in a hurry,” Loki notes airily.

 

Thor is still for another moment and then gets up with a sigh. Loki can see why as Thor passes the foot of the bed on his way to the bathroom, giving Loki an eyeful of his naked form.

 

So. They both got drunk last night and Thor forgot to put clothes on.

 

Loki just curls on his side and decides to sleep until his headache is gone, his Mother's warning still fresh in his mind. He will let Thor go on this one.

 

Thor comes back later that afternoon and Loki is immediately struck with a certain change in him. He looks a bit disturbed and maybe even upset, but he doesn't avoid Loki's company. Loki sits on a sofa, trying and failing to read while Thor paces around, shuffling things purposelessly, calling a servant to bring dinner and standing on the balcony for long moments, looking down at Asgard. All the while, he feels as if Thor doesn't even see him, not the way he's been for the past weeks.

 

Loki taps his fingers on the book's cover impatiently.

 

Finally, he can stand it no longer.

 

“Did you change your mind?”

 

Thor stops and looks up from some parchments he's been rummaging through. “About what?”

 

“Confiding in your friends.”

 

“No.”

 

Loki rolls his eyes in exasperation at Thor's inability to give him some proper answer, but the effect is lost as Thor has already turned away. A while later, he dresses, pulling a cloak over his shoulders and looks at Loki.

 

“Are you well? Do you need something?”

 

Loki arches his eyebrow and stares at Thor hard, gauging. 

 

“I cannot imagine what you are expecting me to say.”

 

“I am assuming you will say whatever suits you and that is what I would hear.”

 

“Where are you going?” Loki demands, suspicious.

 

“A tavern,” Thor replies distractedly, fixing his sleeve.

 

“A tavern,” Loki repeats. “Just like that. For a night of drinking.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Then Thor suddenly frowns as if the conversation has just caught up to him. “I'm truly merely going for a drink with the Warriors Three. Is something the matter? Do you want me to stay?”

 

“I am not in the habit of desiring your company. Shoo already,” Loki dismisses him, turning his eyes pointedly to the pages of his book.

 

As soon as Thor is gone, Loki takes up the pacing after him, restless. He doesn't think Thor lied (though he tells himself he should not take Thor's truthfulness for granted anymore), but he still wishes to know what had his brother so distracted. He considers this morning and Fandral's blatant impudence. It leads him to think about how merely days before, Sif had basically run to Thor's rescue and arrested Loki.

 

He sneers at the empty room, chest filling with that old, dormant anger with every breath.

 

_Of course he's not going to tell them about his perversions if they see_ me _as the monstrosity in this marriage. Oh how they must pity him. How they must fear for his well-being, sleeping every night next to the snake._

 

Well. He would be sorry to disappoint their expectations.

 

He must rely on more old-fashioned means of concealment with his magic so restricted, but he makes do with a mixture of plain grey and black clothes and an old riding cape. He walks through the halls of the palace with his head held up high and only when he slips through an old passage that leads him to the lower city, he puts the hood on and hunches down significantly, giving his steps a bit of an uncertain sway.

 

It would be fun in another time, sneaking like this, using everything available to him to confuse and divert.

 

The sun has just set and Asgard's skies are lighting up with stars, as are people lighting candles and lanterns down below. He makes his way through the streets, heading for one of the taverns he knows Thor prefers. When he nears it, he takes turn into one of the alleys and approaches the pub from behind, hoping to listen to the barmaids gossip at the back. No matter how often Thor attends a place, there will always be talk about it. 

 

He's lucky, the door to the kitchen are opened, letting out the steam and smoke and a cook is bustling about, preparing soup and a roast.

 

“Hurry!” she scolds someone Loki's can't quite see. “Take the bread out to the prince's table!”

 

He smiles, dropping his head even lower. He chose his first stop well. He slinks away from the door but stays in the alley, blending with the growing shadows and settles to wait. With his disguise so imperfect, he needs Thor and his companions to drink quite a bit of mead before even attempting to get closer.

 

Light draft scatters leaves around the alley, chasing out some of the smell of roast meat and other, much less pleasant scents and it occurs to Loki that this is the first time he's been out of the palace since he came back to Asgard. 

 

Nothing has changed in the city.

 

He can see himself standing at this very spot, hiding under a cloak because he didn't learn how to make himself invisible yet, not because his powers have been bound, taken from him, tied to another's will. He can see himself spying on Thor to learn something embarrassing (abundance of drink or maybe a pub brawl gone bad) and use it as a leverage to gain favours from his forever naïve brother. Or, and that's the worst, he can see himself pulling the hood back with an energetic motion and striding into the tavern through the front door, being welcomed by loud hollering and a goblet of mean slammed on the table in front of him. He may have no desire of such companionship now, but it sours him to think that even more lies were woven around those supposedly happy times. Not only was he not really Thor's brother, but Thor also must have _wished_ he wasn't.

 

“ _I'm not sorry you are my brother.”_

 

The memory comes unbidden, the voice in his head sounding partly like his Mother's, partly like Thor's. It makes no difference. He waits.

 

And yet his mind wanders, because what else is there to do? He grows perhaps too distracted, lulled by the distant noise of the tavern and the comforting, velvet darkness.

 

He stiffens slightly when stumbling footsteps sound behind him, accompanied by rowdy laughter. He turns slightly to assess the situation, but before he can see anything, a figure slams into him, bouncing back with a angry, drunk growl. Loki's hood falls back and the laughter stops as if cut off.

 

There are six men blocking the alley entrance, all staring at Loki. He would guess they are builders maybe, or smiths. 

 

“Well would you look at that,” one of them says, his voice rough and he is clearly quite drunk, but his tone is resolute. “The _Jotun_.”

 

And it's shocking to hear it like this, from the lips of some scruffy peasant. There is no doubt in these men's minds that Loki is the lowest of low, far even beneath them.

 

“Mind your tongue,” he scoffs, raising his chin. 

 

“Ohoo,” the men drawls, approaching Loki with a slight swagger to his step. The other men laugh, closing in subtly. “You think you have any business telling me what to do? On what authority?”

 

“On the authority of me ripping you to shreds if you don't walk away,” Loki says calmly, bending his fingers back and forth meaningfully.

 

“I thought they put a muzzle on you, Jotun,” the man just shrugs and Loki feels a sheen of sweat rise on his forehead when he realizes these men know of the restrictions of his magic.

 

“They tried,” he smiles widely, but they call his bluff. 

 

The first swing comes from a small, but wide man who puts his fist into Loki's side before he can react and then it's just like a dam breaking. They come at him all at once and though he is strong, he cannot fight so many at once.

 

He has no armour, no weapons and no magic, only the strength of his fists and while he breaks some bones, he gets many more broken in return. His only advantage, apart from the raw power of a god, is his speed, but the fight is so crowded that he hardly ever manages to really duck or jump out of the way. When he avoids one blow, he is thrust into the way of two more. 

 

Wrecking his brain for loopholes while being pummelled with fists isn't easy, so he just tries to go with what's he already done before, but the nearest lantern is so far away that the fire flickers out before Loki can bring it close to his opponents and after that, he gets his legs swiped from underneath him and falls onto the cobblestones. Last thing he knows for certain is that there is a harsh kick to his head and then things become quite hazy.

 

But even as he slips into darkness, he can hear Thor's roar and then warm blood splatters his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few points about Loki and his strength: I don't mean to make Loki physically weak, he is a capable fighter and just because he prefers other methods doesn't mean that he can't get into a fist fight. A lot of what we see in Avengers and Thor is simple smashing and slamming going on between Thor and Loki. He was however overpowered in this chapter and my explanation would be this – he was not only in numeral disadvantage, but also unable to use his strengths (speed, agility) because it was such an enclosed space. I also like to imagine that everything (all matter) on Asgard is denser than on Earth, so when Loki is slammed to the ground by the Hulk, he makes a dent in our puny earthly cement, while when he is on Asgard's cobblestones, he is much worse off. I hope that makes sense.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter *shakes head*.  
> First of all, sorry for the longer wait, but this weekend I was in Berlin, seeing the earthly counterparts of the fools I am writing about. I now have Chris Hemsowrth's authograph and he is just as handsome (or more) in reality as he seems on the screen. I also actually got to see the movie, even though I didn't understand it as it was dubbed in German. It shouldn't really influence this story much, except for the fact that it cemented my love for Thor/Loki.
> 
> This chapter includes shameless hurt/comfort, willful use of Asgardian medicine, probably badly thought out healing procedures (don't try this at home) and other nonsense. Probably a ton of mistakes too.

“Loki... brother, can you hear me?”

 

Loki blinks up through the pain. His head is pounding and he really doesn't want to move his limbs because he can already feel the pieces of his bones rubbing at each other. There is also white hot, wet throb at his lower back. A knife wound, he would guess.

 

“Hmm,” he grunts.

 

They are still in the alley, but it seems to be empty save for the motionless forms of Loki's assailants. 

 

A twinge of hope blooms in Loki's chest.

 

“Did anyone see?” he gasps.

 

“See what?” Thor frowns, hands hovering over Loki's shoulders as his eyes flick rapidly all over Loki's body, cataloguing the injuries.

 

“Me. Here.”

 

“No... I came out here for a moment and heard noise.”

 

Loki was probably only out of it for a moment then. “Take me away now.”

 

“Yes, you need a healer,” Thor nods and slides one arm under Loki's knees.

 

“No healers,” Loki says curtly, drawing short breaths between words. His ribs are in pieces. “Our rooms. Put a hood on.”

 

Thor stares him down for a while and Loki returns the gaze with as much of an firm expression as he can manage in his state. Then Thor sighs and picks Loki up with arms underneath his knees and shoulders. Loki's vision whites out for a moment and he bites through his lip to stop from crying out. Thor gives him a worried look, but doesn't say anything and walks up to the main street, heading for the palace.

 

It's no good. They are attracting too much attention already and Loki will not have it.

 

“Stop,” he hisses. “We will fly.”

 

“How?! I cannot take you like this.”

 

“Yes, you can. Put me over your shoulder.”

 

“It will hurt too much!” Thor protests and he cannot seem to keep his voice down anymore. He looks a bit worn. “Loki, what are you doing? Why this secrecy?”

 

“I will tell you the very second you take me inside and bring me a damned healing stone! Now do as I say!” Loki's heated reply leaves him breathless and dizzy. Almost no air gets into his lungs and his banged up head isn't helping either.

 

With his jaw clenching, Thor backs into a smaller street and kneels, bringing Loki upwards with one hand and supporting him with the other until he is hanging upside down over Thor's shoulder. Thor's left arm is firmly wrapped around Loki's thighs and with the right, he unties Mjolnir and spins her.

 

“Brother, I'm not sure-”

 

“If you drop me, it still won't be the worst thing you've done to me.”

 

He can't see Thor's face of course, but he is pressed against him and can feel the shock running through Thor's frame. But then Thor throws Mjolnir and they're in the air and Loki only thinks about the pain in his ribs and back and wonders if he will suffocate before they get to the palace. He must black out again because when he is suddenly aware of his surroundings again, there is unmistakable softness of mattress beneath him. 

 

More interestingly, Thor is standing above him with a dagger in hand.

 

If Loki's head wasn't hurting quite as much, he would cock it to the side. Then Thor takes the blade to the hem of Loki's tunic, pierces it and puts the dagger away, ripping the fabric to reveal Loki's torso. He keeps doing that until all of Loki's clothing is simply bunched under him and out of the way.

 

Loki watches the ceiling and idly muses.

 

_I didn't know what he was going to do. Maybe I should have been scared._

 

There is a velvet pouch with delicate embroidery of runes on the hem laying on the night stand and Thor takes it, pulling out a smooth healing stone.

 

“Start with my back,” Loki murmurs and Thor nods, kneeling next to Loki and carefully turning him. Loki grits his teeth as Thor peels the blood soaked fabric from his skin and then he relaxes in (albeit temporary) relief as he hears Thor crush the stone in his palm. In mere moments, the pain is gone and he immediately feels a little stronger as the stone restores some of the blood he lost.

 

It's much slower work with all the bruised and broken bones.

 

Loki's right wrist is broken and he shouts when Thor sets it and pants loudly as Thor coats it in salve and wraps it in make-shift bandage torn from a sheet. When he's done, Thor looks in frustration at the inelegant bundle of cloth.

 

“I wish you would let me fetch a healer.”

 

“No,” Loki says simply, absolutely unwilling to argue or explain himself at this point.

 

He catches Thor looking at him, brow furrowed in consideration.

 

“As you will.”

 

Thor bends over him then, settling fingers on his toes and feels lightly for fractures. Loki occasionally grunts to mark a particularly tender spot as Thor laves him in the healing salve, working his way over Loki's ankles (one swollen from collision), his purpling and cut up shins and mangled knee. It's only when Thor firmly puts both palms on Loki's thigh, bending his leg a little to assess whether a huge, reddish bruise near Loki's crotch is just that or if it hides a more serious injury, it occurs to Loki that Thor seems oddly unperturbed.

 

In his ostentatious repentance, he has been avoiding touching Loki as if it would burn him.

 

But now he says nothing and acts unconcerned.

 

Loki doesn't mind, he would like all his bones whole as soon as possible, but still. How careless of Thor.

 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, licking his lips when Thor looks up at him.

 

“Immensely,” Thor says bluntly, but his irony is apparent. Still, his hands are sure as he presses them to Loki's abdomen and Loki stops talking again, too busy gasping for breath. 

 

“I should just bath you in the salve,” Thor complains, sweeping his fingers on the bottom of the jar and spreading the rest of the unguent on the whole of Loki's stomach, which is one big bruise. “And now I've run out.”

 

“Doesn't matter. It's better if you use a stone on my ribs anyway. The rest is fine.”

 

Thor gives him an appraising look over and winces when his eyes travel up to Loki's bruised cheek.

 

“I'm sorry, I should have checked your head first.”

 

He wipes carefully every remaining drop of the salve and pats it gently on the heated and swollen areas. He has a perfectly demure look on his face, which Loki can see up close because Thor has leaned far down.

 

“Alright,” Thor assesses. “Now just-”

 

He slides fingers of both hands into Loki's hair, feeling his skull for bumps, but it feels like he's cradling Loki's head – and he's being all gentle about it too – which Loki finds terribly interesting.

 

“This is fun,” Loki smirks. “I see you are suddenly quite eager to put your hands back on me... I would have expected some restraint.”

 

Thor finally snaps. “You are injured and I will do all I can to patch you up. I will not cause you pain by hesitating.”

 

And it makes sense of course – it would be positively hateful if Thor's hands were shaking and he was asking for permission before every movement, but Loki isn't a fan of sense these days.

 

“You have it all figured out, don't you,” he says coldly, dropping the playful tone. Thor ignores him and starts crushing a healing stone over his chest

 

“Be quiet or you will swallow the dust.”

 

And Loki has to listen to him because his breath is hitching and he groans as his ribs knit themselves together.

 

“One more,” he gasps and Thor probes him gently before agreeing. And is a pleasure to be able to breathe deeply again. He uses the air to mock Thor some more.

 

“The mighty Thor, haunted by his actions, but selflessly putting his heart on the line. I might shed a tear.”

 

“What do you want from me, Loki?” Thor sounds resigned, but at least he doesn't run. He sits at Loki's side, looking down at him with a collected expression.

 

“I want you to drop this pretence. I want you to admit that you are an animal. All this brooding, all this consideration and apologies... I've seen you. I know what you really want. What you really are.”

 

And Thor, damn him to Hel, laughs. A full, deep laughter bursts from him and he pats Loki's leg.

 

“You've seen nothing,” he says when he finally stops. “There are no limits to what I would do with you if you wished it as I do. Only knowing all of it, dear brother, you might call me an animal, because I sincerely doubt that even you can imagine what I've imagined.”

 

And Loki has to swallow a completely unexpected warm feeling that creeps up on him.

 

“Some water for the patient maybe?” he asks, pointedly overlooking Thor's confession and he thinks he sees Thor blush a little before he turns to go and pour a cup of water, sloshing some wine into it as well before handing it to Loki.

 

“Now, will you tell me why we did all this?”

 

“Healers talk. And so do maids and everyone who would be involved if I sought out their help. And I will not have the whole Asgard know that I can't defend myself.”

 

Thor rubs a palm over his face, sitting down again.

 

“I apologize. It was careless of me to not allow you your defence.”

 

And Loki can basically see him thinking and formulating and it's so maddening. The old Thor would just blurt something out, leaving Loki to twist it to his use. 

 

“You may use your magic if your life or health is in danger, using adequate force and only as little of it as necessary. You will stop once you are safe.”

 

Loki glares at him and Thor smiles sadly.

 

“I'm sorry, but I realized that some of the things you said... Your position is not entirely... well. I would do you no favours by leaving you to turn even more people against you.”

 

“And for a second there I thought you might stop being such a pain in the ass.”

 

Loki drinks his water while Thor watches him openly. He deposits the goblet back into Thor's hands when he is done, enjoying the sight of Thor waiting on him.

 

“Do you think you can move?”

 

“If by move you mean roll off those dirty clothes and sheets onto a cleaner part of bed, then yes.”

 

Thor's lip twitches. “Something like that.”

 

When Loki shuffles away, Thor picks up the torn, bloodied fabric and tosses it away. The sheets are stained as well and Loki watches them with a frown. 

 

“I will clean those. I don't want any questions and I wish to stretch my magic.”

 

He bites his tongue then because that was unnecessarily revealing, but Thor doesn't call him out on it. “Go ahead.”

 

He waves his fingers and the stains disappear, leaving the sheets white and fluffy.

 

“What about burning my clothes?”

 

“Of course.”

 

They puff up in a flare of green smoke and Loki smiles before noticing that Thor is watching him with a fond expression.

 

“Some more tricks you would like your pet to perform?” he asks sweetly and the fondness promptly disappears.

 

“Why were you in that alley?”

 

“I was meeting one of my _Frost_ cousins and plotting to overthrow Asgard's rule.”

 

“Were you following me?”

 

“Of course I was following you, you idiot.”

 

“Why?” 

 

Loki yanks the sheets to his chin pointedly and rolls to face away from Thor.

 

“I'm going to sleep now.”

 

* * *

 

 

Loki turns Thor's words in his mind over and over later that night when he wakes because of his aching wrist.

 

It was a strange interlude they had while Thor healed him. For all his efforts to drive Thor into more guilt and more shame, it was... entertaining to see Thor resemble his old self, with the banter flowing easily between them. And Thor's confession, well, Loki wasn't lying when he said he was tired of Thor's brooding.

 

He's enjoyed unmaking Thor.

 

Now he realizes it might be equally interesting to shape him anew.

 

Because he doesn't want to go down this path anymore. It's a dead end. Something tells him, an instinct perhaps, or reflection of his Mother's words, that if Thor really broke, if Loki pushed him over the edge, he would simply spiral into a dark, static place, instead of becoming a whole new kind of beast, as Loki believed before. He wouldn't fight back. He would do nothing. He would be as good as dead.

 

He looks at Thor's sleeping form. He's lying closer than he was on any other night. Loki is too tired to really do anything, his body still working on fixing itself and soon he falls asleep again, but before he does, he watches his brother, odd feelings swirling within him.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor spends the morning with him, trying and failing to be subtle in his attempts to get Loki to eat rich breakfast, but other than that, they barely talk. Loki feels lousy and while he doesn't want to go back on his own decisions, he's hardly in the mood to play nice, so he just says nothing and goes back to bed as soon as possible.

 

Thor reluctantly leaves, after Loki snarls at him that all he wants to do is rest, _undisturbed,_ but he promises to check on Loki soon.

 

Loki immediately drifts off, but his dreams gradually become disturbing and uncomfortably vivid, causing him to wake shaking, covered in sweat. He has no time to regroup before the door is opening quietly and Thor's head appears in the gap. His eyes widen in concern when he sees Loki and he hurries inside, his steps so light as if he thought Loki was still asleep.

 

“What's the matter?”

 

“Fever, I believe,” Loki murmurs, trying to disentangle himself from the soaking sheets. Thor helps pull them away from him, but then tries to wrestle different ones on Loki again. Loki slaps his hands away.

 

“Stop.”

 

“You will make yourself worse if you catch a chill.”

 

Thor persistently bundles Loki back and then his hands are on Loki's face, gently checking for temperature.

 

“This is all nonsense. You know what I am. How can I catch a chill?”

 

“I've spent a thousand years by your side and if I recall correctly, you could get sick just like everyone else.”

 

Loki stops fighting him and huffs, relaxing into the soft bed. 

 

“Stay here,” Thor tells him. “I will fetch a potion.”

 

“If you tell-”

 

“I won't. I will simply request it without explaining myself.”

 

Thor is already by the door when Loki giggles. “That should work, yes. Typical for you.”

 

Thor surprises him by throwing a crooked grin over his shoulder before slipping out.

 

Shortly after, Loki decides that he is fit and that he is in terrible need of a bath. He's sticky with sweat and the dirt from the alley makes him itch all over. He's not sure how he managed to sleep at all in this state. He makes it to the bathroom but once he starts filling the tub with hot water and the room mists over with steam, his head swims and he has enough sense left to quickly sit down.

 

That's how Thor finds him, sitting dazedly with his back propped against the wall, while steam rolls in clouds around them and the water in the tub threatens to spill over.

 

“Loki,” Thor admonishes, closing the facet and chasing out the moisture with a wave of his fingers, bringing fresh, earth-smelling air inside. “What are you doing?”

 

“I'm filthy,” Loki complains. Then a vial is pressed to his lips.

 

“Drink and then you can clean up.”

 

Loki swallows the herb concoction and sighs. The taste is not unfamiliar, but it's been a while since he had it. Thor pulls him off the floor and manhandles him into the bath, which Loki just let him do, because it's much easier than actually putting any effort into his movements. He doesn't feel dizzy anymore, but lethargy has taken strong hold over him and he is still too warm. Thor lets him soak for a while and then pushes a cloth into his hand, which Loki ineffectually sweeps over whatever skin he can reach.

 

“Do you want me to help you?” Thor asks and even through the haze, Loki can hear the returning doubt in Thor's voice. 

 

Loki just grunts non-committally and slaps the cloth in Thor's vague direction, splashing him thoroughly. Thor takes it and when Loki actually bothers to open his eyes and look, he is met with an anxious gaze.

 

Thor wipes his face and neck and then dips his hand underwater to scrub at Loki's armpits, but that's apparently the end of his nerve. Loki is somewhat amused.

 

“Come on,” Thor tugs on his shoulders lightly. “You need to rest.”

 

Finally back in bed, Loki is almost ready to go back to sleep, but Thor is hovering over him and it's too much of a temptation. He yanks his brother down on top of him and Thor barely manages to get his hands under him on either side of Loki and hold himself up.

 

Loki's world is reduced to warm haze and while he doesn't feel well, he's also _floating,_ careless and fearless.

 

“I should thank you for the rescue,” he purrs and Thor closes his eyes.

 

“Loki...”

 

“Mhmm, I mean it,” he breathes, but ruins the effect with a giggle he can't quite suppress. He has one arm winded about Thor's neck, straining to get him closer, but Thor's arms are made of steel and he won't budge. Still, he slides the palm of his other hand into Thor's beard, then tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear before entwining his fingers harshly in it and pulling Thor's head down. His own lips fall open as he tries to reach up and kiss Thor, but his brother turns his head in the last moment and Loki can only mouth teasingly at Thor's jaw and the corner of his lips.

 

“Please,” Thor whispers, voice full of pain. “Please don't.”

 

“You only think the worst of me,” Loki scolds mockingly, but lets Thor up a little. “Not a kiss then. Fine. But ask me for something and I will grant it to you.”

 

“I will not play this game, Loki,” Thor murmurs. “I cannot. You are ill. You don't know what you are doing.”

 

Loki summons up some energy and squints up at Thor.

 

“Thor, I am lucid,” he says confidently. “Now either say what you want of me or leave me be.”

 

Thor's face twists in a way that Loki thinks he hasn't seen before and it takes his muddled brain a while to realize that there is probably a battle raging in Thor's mind and for the first time, he feels a flicker of doubt whether Thor can actually restrain himself. Loki is lying all but naked underneath him and his suggestions are freely flowing. But then Thor relaxes slightly and actually drops his head on Loki's shoulder.

 

“Very well. If you truly mean to gift me...”

 

“Reward,” Loki corrects and Thor raises his head with a sad smile.

 

“Reward, then. I would ask that you let me hold you tonight.”

 

Loki waits a second. “Hold me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I always knew that beneath all that thundering surface you could be a little dull and boring, but this? Where is your inner animal Thor? I thought you wanted to show it to me.”

 

“Don't pretend you don't know what it is I really want of you,” Thor frowns and finally breaks free from Loki's hold.

 

“And what would that be?”

 

Thor pauses, eyes searching Loki's face. Loki fights to keep his focus on Thor, vision swimming a little.

 

“Love,” Thor replies laconically and turns to undress.

 

Loki watches him, blinking.

 

“Perhaps I really am too sick to deal with you.”

 

Thor nods, looking away.

 

“So just get here and try not to jostle me too much. I need rest.”

 

Thor's fingers flex and he stares down at Loki. “I'm going to regret this,” he sighs, but slips under the sheets. Loki turns onto his side and Thor wraps himself around him, pulling Loki's hips into his lap, entwines their ankles and settles his arm around Loki's chest.

 

Then a whole body shudder goes through him and he exhales into Loki's neck, making an odd, very quiet sound, like a little choke.

 

And Loki would maybe like to stay awake and think for a while longer, but the fever and the calming effects of the potion finally pull him under and he sleeps. And if Thor's weight anchors him through the night and helps him get rid of the illness, well, nobody needs to know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just spiralling. I'm sorry. *nervous*

Loki wakes with a dry throat and sand in his eyes. His limbs feel heavy and he can tell that he's been sleeping for a very long time.

 

He's curled on his side, head pillowed on Thor's arm (which he drooled on). When he raises his head sleepily, he sees that Thor is awake and watches the ceiling with the expression of a man facing a death sentence.

 

Loki would hate to become predictable.

 

He yawns and stretches, staying pressed to his brother's – or husband's really – warm side and then he rolls off with a light approving pat at Thor's bare chest.

 

“You do make an acceptable pillow,” he croaks, voice still gritty with sleep. A few beats pass in silence as maybe Thor waits for him to start screaming accusations, but when he sees they are not forthcoming, he seems to find his voice.

 

“Are you feeling well?”

 

“Yes, quite. What time is it?”

 

“Mid-morning. You slept through the afternoon and whole night.”

 

Loki checks his wrist, finding it healed and raises his hands above his head, stretching some more and groaning when he feels every muscle.

 

“Hmm, I can tell. And all the while you were faithfully with me, forgoing all your appointments for the sake of lazing about in bed.”

 

“It didn't seem that long,” Thor replies calmly. Something in his tone makes Loki suspicious.

 

“Did you sleep at all?”

 

“No.”

 

“You are a sentimental fool.”

 

“That has been long since established.”

 

* * *

 

 

Things fall into a stalemate after this and in the passing weeks Loki often wonders if he's made a mistake, blunting his best weapon, as he spends long hours sitting alone, gazing down on Asgard or paging through books disinterestedly. 

 

Thor is busy.

 

Loki hardly ever sees him during the day and when he comes in in the evenings, he goes to bed as soon as he can and sleeps like a stone. 

 

This jars Loki for several reasons – first of all, he is bored. Secondly, it's the reason for Thor's tight schedule itself that bothers him – he's preparing to take the throne and Loki can't quench the bitterness that creeps up his throat when he imagines it.

 

This night is no different. The sun has set hours prior and Loki sits, staring into flames that crackle in the hearth and he sips wine, letting go every pretence of doing anything at all. Then he hears door click at the other end of the suite and he could slap himself for the twinge of excitement it brings him.

 

Thor arrives moments later, wishing Loki good evening and taking off his cape. His shoulders are slumped and his eyes shine dully. 

 

“Sit with me?” Loki asks and his fist clenches under the table when he sees exasperation flash in Thor's expression before he smiles lightly.

 

“Of course.”

 

Loki pours Thor wine and then props his head on a hand, watching him gulp it all down.

 

“A taxing day for the king-to-be I see.”

 

Thor all but slams the goblet down.

 

“Yes,” he growls and it sounds like a warning, which sits particularly badly with Loki.

 

“Would you maybe like me to draw you a bath and give you a massage, so that I can help you with this terrible _burden_?” he drawls sweetly. Thor looks at him for a second and then gets up, silent.

 

“Don't you dare ignore me,” Loki calls after him, blood burning as weeks of idle frustration demand to be released.

 

Thor stops, but doesn't turn and he speaks facing away from Loki.

 

“You don't owe me anything, Loki, I know that, but I will not simply sit here and listen to your empty mockery.”

 

“ _Empty_ mockery? Everything you own has been ever handed to you on a silver platter, the throne of Asgard included, so forgive me if I don't have any sympathy to offer when you find the task too much to handle.”

 

Thor looks over his shoulder and Loki is a bit chilled by his expression – not for its intensity, but rather the lack of it. He doesn't fear Thor's anger, but this silent disdain makes him uncomfortable.

 

“I didn't ask for your sympathy. Or your company for that matter.”

 

And then he is gone, slamming the doors behind him and leaving Loki staring after him with his mouth open.

 

When he collects himself, Loki realizes that there is only one possible response to this and that is what he does – grabs a cloak and leaves their chambers immediately. He stalks through the palace, fuming silently until he is calm enough to look around and try and decide where to go. Sadly, his options are limited (if he wants to keep some dignity, that is). In the end, he goes to the stables, saddles a horse while the stable boys watch him nervously and rides out of the city, heading deep into the woods. He slows when he is safely covered by the foliage and follows a wide trail in the star light, letting the horse go at its own pace so it won't spook in the darkness.

 

This woods aren't dangerous or deep, in fact, even in dark they are a lovely place, full of soothing sounds and smells. His anger trickles from him, but is replaced by nervous chagrin.

 

He's made a decision to stop punishing Thor and instead ensnare him deeper in the ridiculous affection of his, but his plans were hindered by something as simple as lack of time to spin them in. Now he feels empty-handed. Weaponless. Thor wasn't acting guilty _nor_ affectionate. 

 

He spends the whole day in the woods, lounging on a small clearing, stretched out on soft grass while the horse grazes on it. He wonders if someone will come fetch him and he tells himself that if anything, it's an interesting test of how much 'freedom' he truly has. 

 

He works on the simple elemental magic that is available to him. Drops of dew dance in elaborate patterns under his fingers, he starts and quenches fires of all imaginable colours, teases small tornadoes from the soft winds. It would be soothing – he doesn't mind simplicity, in fact, with magic it's often the height of its beauty – but it serves to remind him of the more complicated tasks he cannot fulfill.

 

When the evening comes, he thinks he wouldn't say no to a decent meal, but only drinks from a stream nearby and munches on some berries, lying back down on the ground. He tries to maintain the air of someone who is resting serenely in the heart of nature, rather than someone who refuses to return to the only rooms (and bed) available to him. 

 

“You are a much better companion than my husband,” he tells the horse stubbornly.

 

In the morning, he rides back with his head held high as if his stomach wasn't protesting loudly and his clothing wasn't sodden with moisture and smudged with mud.

 

He's not terribly surprised to find Thor absent when he finally slips into their chambers. He busies himself with bathing and eating, but when the sun sets again and Thor still doesn't come, he grows angry and suspicious. 

 

He feels cut off from the rest of the realm and he curses himself the fool for not trying to rebuild some of the bridges he burned. He cannot spend the rest of his life in no other but Thor's or his Mother's company. 

 

In the morning he opens his eyes to find an empty room around him again. Thinking that surely a small walk through the palace couldn't hurt, he slips from the bedroom only to stop short at the doorstep.

 

Thor is sitting at a table, dressed in riding clothes and looking like he hasn't slept for days. He jumps up when Loki enters and gives a small nod of his head.

 

“Loki.”

 

“Thor,” Loki cocks his head. “What are you doing?”

 

“I returned during the night and didn't want to wake you,” Thor says. His posture seems a bit too straight, making him seem awkward. Loki looks him carefully over and then makes to leave. Thor rushes to him, almost grabbing him.

 

“Please, I... I wanted to apologize.”

 

And maybe Loki should have been expecting that, but he wasn't. 

 

“I was very tired and angry about things that do not concern you. It was unfair to take it out on you.”

 

Loki squints his eyes at Thor, who is standing like a scolded child. “Have you been practising that?”

 

“Yes,” Thor says with an apologetic smile. “That doesn't make it any less true.”

 

Loki is at loss of words for a moment – he cannot swallow that slight (especially considering that it drove him out in the way it did) easily, but he also wants to take this opportunity to get back on track with his plots. Thor solves it for him. He merely waits for a few seconds for the answer that isn't coming before turning to the table he has been sitting at and picking up a rather large pouch that Loki didn't pay attention to.

 

“I brought you something.”

 

He slips the object out of the bag and it's a tome bound in leather with intricate metal bindings. Loki immediately perks up. Thor gives it to him and Loki studies it carefully. It's very old and heavy and he has trouble reading the inscriptions that run across its surface.

 

“And here,” Thor adds, handing him a peculiarly shaped golden token. “It's supposed to be the key to open the book and access all of its magic.”

 

Loki forces himself to leave proper examination of the tome for later. He can already tell that it's rare and valuable and he knows he will spend many fruitful hours reading it, but for now, he must focus on Thor.

 

“Where did you get it?”

 

“I fought and bargained for it on Vanaheim.”

 

“And what, pray tell, were you doing on Vanaheim?”

 

“It seemed like a good choice of a place to search for something to your liking.”

 

Loki lets himself think about this for a moment.

 

“So you went to Vanaheim for no other reason than a wild goose chase for a gift for me.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

And Thor still looks sheepish, but also somewhat pleased with himself.

 

“And now I'm supposed to just _magically_ forget the way you treat me.”

 

Thor's pleased expression falls away and he hangs his head. “No. But it seemed to me that my apologizes were wearing thin. I thought more than words might be needed.”

 

Loki glares at him for a while longer and then sighs, walking away to place the tome carefully on a nearby desk.

 

“In that at least, I cannot fault your reasoning.”

 

Thor's eyes follow him with a disgustingly sincere look in them.

 

“Loki, I really am sorry. What I said to you was appalling and most untrue.”

 

“Fine. Don't you have somewhere to be? I will examine the book to see if it's any good.”

 

Thor smiles and Loki rolls his eyes because he knows that Thor can see right through him. It _is_ a good gift. 

 

Thor merely cleans up and changes clothes and then heads off to face his duties (with no sleep, Loki notes), going as far as squeezing Loki's shoulder lightly in goodbye. Loki doesn't even raise his head from where he's poring over the book.

 

A knock rouses him several hours later and he yanks the door open with a frown, not at all pleased to be disturbed. It's a page who bows quickly.

 

“My lord, may I ask if you wish to make arrangements with the tailor?”

 

“For what?” 

 

“The Queen's birthday celebration.”

 

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course. He may come tomorrow morning.”

 

“As you wish, my lord.”

 

Loki closes the door and leans against it, fighting a smile and feeling like putting his face into his hands at the same time. This is his Mother's way of subtly reminding him of the event. He completely forgot and she knew it. Same probably goes for Thor, though at least he _talks_ to people. Loki toys with the idea of not reminding him, but ultimately discards it. 

 

Thor staggers back in in the evening and Loki is already in bed, ruffling through some notes he made from his study of Thor's gift. Thor flops onto the bed and Loki pinches him as soon as he closes his eyes.

 

“Before you fall asleep, I wanted to remind you that it's Mother's birthday soon.”

 

Thor's eyes snap open and he looks up at Loki. “Oh Hel. Thank you.”

 

He settles back to sleep but as Loki keeps reading, he can see that his breathing isn't slowing and soon enough, Thor is looking at him again, raising himself up on one elbow.

 

“Will you be alright? It will be our first... appearance together.”

 

“I'm not going to spoil Mother's party with a scene.”

 

“That's not what I was asking.”

 

Loki rubs the palm of his hand on his face, sighing. “Yes, Thor, I will stomach whatever horrors my new situation brings me among the good people of Asgard.”

 

Thor overlooks this comment. 

 

* * *

 

The feast in Queen's honour isn't held in the main dining hall, but rather a smaller, but much cosier set of rooms. The decorations are stunning – fabrics and flowers in warm colours cover every surface and tiny lights dot the ceilings, casting pleasant glow. The long tables that usually grace every feast are replaced with more intimate, round ones.

 

Loki could kiss Frigga when he finds out she shipped Odin off to another table and surrounded herself with her sons and a couple of her ladies only.

 

At least until the ladies start talking to him.

 

He is rather contentedly tasting honey roasted goose, half listening to Thor and Mother talk, when Aerndis puts her hand on his arm and smiles.

 

“You look well.”

 

“Thank you, my lady,” he says, a little confused. His memories of her consist mostly of her strict scowl when he and Thor were running carelessly close to the spinning frame she was using. 

 

She pats him lightly.

 

“Marital life will do that to you.”

 

Then she has to pat his back because he chokes on his goose.

 

“There, there, no need to be flustered. I'm just an old lady, happy to see some young love.”

 

“My lady Aerndis, you do recall that up until recently I called Thor my brother?”

 

She waves her hand as if that was but a speck floating in the air. “The Norns know best.”

 

And that's all she says, but the conversation – overheard by most of the table – shifts the focus onto him and soon Loki is under onslaught of comments and questions that he can barely stomach. He tries, for his Mother's sake, but his patience is rapidly disappearing.

 

“I think chosen marriages are delightful,” lady Gynna giggles. “You have to really _try_. It brings out the best in people. When my father chose my husband-” 

 

His Mother's warm palm covers gently his fist in which he is squeezing a fork with enough force to break it. 

 

“I think it's time for music. Will you and Thor dance?”

 

She doesn't quite wait for his reply and beckons to the musicians who ready their instruments and the space between the tables rapidly fills with eager dancers. Then Thor's offered palm appears in his line of vision.

 

“Please?”

 

He just bites the inside of his cheek and takes Thor's hand. As he is getting up, his eyes fly up to Thor's face and he almost jerks back when he is met with a warm, grateful look. The intensity of it startles him. Thor looks as if his dreams were coming true and Loki is reminded of the night a few weeks ago, how Thor shuddered when Loki let him close.

 

Thor puts one hand on Loki's waist and the other on his shoulder, deviating from the correct posture.

 

_Not holding me as though I am a woman,_ Loki thinks. _He seems to value his life._

 

Loki mirrors the hold and they end up in a slightly odd, but workable tangle and start spinning with the other couples.

 

Thor is beaming.

 

“You could at least try to be subtle,” Loki murmurs when the steps take them close.

 

“Are you bothered?”

 

“You are the one who has something to hide.”

 

“Not in this.”

 

Thor's hands are warm and he knows he is flushed from the movement and the temperature of the room. Still, there is something to be said for the rhythm he finds himself in and he slips closer to Thor, bettering their posture. His legs follow the steps thoughtlessly in perfect tandem with Thor.

 

“You look beautiful,” Thor blurts out and his grip on Loki tightens for a moment. Loki guesses it's because he regrets his words.

 

“Aren't you the perfect spouse,” Loki shakes his head, but his tone stays light.

 

Thor chuckles humourlessly. “I wish I was.”

 

“Oh well, if it's of any consequence to you, it seem that at least the rest of Asgard seems to think you are. I am apparently blushing with marital bliss.”

 

And he is just teasing, he means no harm really by these words, he just reflects all the ridiculous dotting he had to endure at the table and he is half focused on his feet as to not stumble but when he glances at Thor, he sees a horrified, heart-broken expression on his face and he can feel Thor's momentum slowing.

 

“It's not right-” Thor gasps and he stops moving altogether.

 

“Thor,” Loki hisses, infuriated. “ _Dance_. This is Mother's celebration, don't you dare ruin it with your useless brooding.”

 

And to that at least Thor listens and they start spinning again before too many people notice their nervous interlude, but the drive seems to have gone out of Thor and Loki is exasperated. He didn't even mean for that to happen.

 

And he doesn't really have a good explanation for this, or a plan in mind, he just knows that he refuses to put up with Thor's moods if he didn't cause them on purpose. 

 

When the steps allow it, he slips even closer into Thor's arms until they are pressed flush together. He half expects Thor to pull back, but if anything, he seems grateful.

 

“Will you ever tell me what you really feel?” he whispers after some moments.

 

“I have been far more honest with you than you deserve,” Loki tells him smoothly.

 

“You are not afraid of me,” Thor says and it's not a question.

 

“And you seek absolution in that? I am no coward.”

 

“Have you forgiven me?”

 

And Loki cannot answer this, he _cannot_. 

 

“You have no right to ask me that,” he hisses.

 

“Then tell me what to do,” Thor urges, desperation lacing his words.

 

“Just stop this. Stop. Not here and not now.”

 

A quick glance to the side tells him that their altercation has not gone unnoticed. There are eyes following them and while he is more or less certain that nobody could really hear them over the music, he knows that this story will be twisted beyond recognition by the morning. 

 

“Let's go back and sit with Mother,” Loki prompts. Thor doesn't protest, but he keeps holding Loki's arm as they dodge the merry party-goers and take their seats.

 

Frigga is smiling widely.

 

“You danced beautifully,” she tells them.

 

“Thank you,” they chime in unison and her smile only grows wider. 

 

“I bet they've had practise,” comes a drunken giggle from the other side of the table. Lady Gynna is snickering into her goblet. Loki picks up his own and Thor seems to find that wise as well.

 

They drink deeply, throats parched with the exertion and nerves. Frigga still seems happy, but Loki notices a searching expression in her gaze.

 

Soon after, she looks around the room, which is stuffed and noisy. The celebration is in full swing.

 

“Boys, will you please escort me to my chambers?”

 

“Already?” Thor smiles.

 

“Yes, quite, I think no one's entertainment will be hindered by my departure.”

 

Loki looks around the drunk guests and silently agrees. That's Asgard's way.

 

They all rise and she takes their arms, so they walk each at her side.

 

“Are you well?” she asks and it's clear she means if they are well _together._

 

Loki knows Thor won't answer, not after being scolded as he was.

 

He sighs. “Yes. Thor is an idiot, as usual, but it's manageable.”

 

A small laugh escapes her, but then she turns to Loki with a mock-strict expression. “Loki. Watch your language.”

 

“I'm afraid it's quite justifiable, Mother,” Thor laughs and he and Loki exchange a smirk over Frigga's head. 

 

Loki is struck with how familiar that was. This is his brother and mother he is walking with, sharing banter that hasn't changed in a thousand years. And it could be disturbing, yes, but it is merely soothing.

 

They bid their Mother farewell and head for their chambers. Loki hooks his arm into Thor's.

 

“Like old times, yes?”

 

“I miss them greatly.”

 

“So do I.”

 

And Thor almost stops, his head whipping to the side to stare at Loki. Loki looks stubbornly forward. There is only so much he's willing to give away.

 

He lets go of Thor as soon as they're in and heads straight toward a pitcher of wine.

 

“Have you found anything of interest in the book I gave you?” Thor asks, accepting a goblet.

 

“Yes. It would be even better if the knowledge was of any use to me.”

 

Thor doesn't respond and steps closer to Loki. Neither of them has sit down. Loki leans against the back of a chair that stands by the fireplace, feeling the warmth spread against his back.

 

“Did you mean that?”

 

And it's annoying that Thor is so vague, but Loki understands what he means and decides to comply.

 

“Does it surprise you? Why would I not miss what I had when now I have nothing?”

 

“On Midgard, you said-”

 

“I know what I said, Thor. And I meant that also. But still. You were my brother. It wasn't perfect, but it was preferable to this.”

 

“I am your brother. I always will be.”

 

And Thor is a stubborn fool of course, but Loki still smiles.

 

“Come on then, brother. The marital bed awaits us.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, well. Here comes the smut. Somewhat important chapter, if I may say so, all the more reason for me to be ashamed of my continuous struggle with the English language.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support and feedback, it's mindblowing. If you'd like, you can add me as nanowrimo buddy 'takemetothedungeons' and watch my progress.

The wine is in their heads when they head into the bedroom and Loki actually bumps into Thor as he gets in Loki's way when Loki makes a turn for the bath.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I'm going to bathe.”

 

“No, _I_ am.” 

 

“Loki, I need to be up at dawn. I won't wait until you've soaked to your heart's desire. You take too much time.”

 

Loki stabs a finger into Thor's chest. “You are only saying this because you know what the most reasonable solution is and it just happens to be a suitable one for you.”

 

Thor shrugs and grins and Loki could just slap that expression from his face. 

 

“You can just wait.”

 

It's laughably easy to take revenge on Thor for challenging Loki like this. Inside the bathing chamber, Loki undresses slowly while never taking his eyes off Thor, who just shucks his clothes off hastily and starts filling the tub, sitting at the edge and lowering his legs in, soaping himself. Loki walks past him, ankle brushing Thor's knee and swaying his behind right in Thor's view as he descends to the bottom of the tub.

 

He sprawls at the opposite end, stretching out, and floats lazily. 

 

“We bathed together countless times,” Loki notes. “Was it a temptation?”

 

“Always,” Thor admits simply, lathering himself. Loki thinks for a moment, trying to put himself into Thor's situation. What would he do if their places were reversed?

 

“Did you ever spy on me?”

 

“What makes you think I would confess to that?”

 

Loki kicks his foot out and splashes him. 

 

Then he has to grasp the edge of the tub to stop himself from sinking under when Thor launches for him and grabs his ankle.

 

“Do not be making a mess, Loki.” He holds up a bar of soap in his other hand. “May I?”

 

“I like it when you are brave.”

 

Loki watches Thor wash his feet and he fights against groaning in appreciation – it's basically a massage and he does love those. Thor seems focused and relaxed, never taking his eyes away from what he's doing.

 

“You were determined to dance with me tonight,” he mentions carelessly, head thrown back as he savours the sensation.

 

“Yes and it was as lovely as I hoped it would be.” Thor's tone is collected – a simple compliment falling from his lips. It makes Loki think about the celebration.

 

“You asked me if I've forgiven you, but I'm more interested in whether you have forgiven yourself.”

 

“In a way, I will never forgive myself, but I feel regret less and less keenly with every day you spend breathing.”

 

And Loki thinks there is strength in that and he admires it almost against his will. He wants to reward it.

 

His limbs are shaky, but the water thankfully hides that when he pulls his leg gently from Thor's hold and swims forward in one stroke, slipping into Thor's lap, winding his legs around his hips. Thor leans back and turns his head away, but otherwise stays still.

 

“I see you'll never forgive me either,” he murmurs. 

 

And if Loki didn't know better, if he didn't need at least some sort of leverage over Thor, he might have told Thor right there and then that all was forgiven. He winds his fingers in Thor's damp hair and tilts his head, staring down at him from his perch on his lap. 

 

“You are terribly unappreciative of my gestures of good will.”

 

“They tend to come with a price,” Thor says and tries to push Loki off. Loki just tightens his grip, unable to tear his eyes from the planes of Thor's face. He's been looking at this face for a thousand of year, he knows how handsome Thor is, but now he seems to somewhat... see more of him. The depth of Thor's thoughts is openly reflected in the tense frown of his brows. Loki thinks he sees Thor's lower lip quivering almost imperceptibly. The hair in his hand is smooth and pleasant to touch. The thighs on which he sits are strong and tense.

 

He leans forward and silences Thor's pleading whimper with his mouth. He wraps his lips around Thor's, nuzzling to make him open up and Thor's resistance only lasts for a couple of seconds – then he gives in to the tug of Loki's hand and leans into him, opening his mouth and finding Loki's tongue with his own. In a blink of an eye, Loki is pressed against Thor's chest – and he loves that particular feeling – and his mouth is being thoroughly worshipped. Loki jerks in shock of pleasure when he tightens his legs around Thor and his hips slot against Thor's, their cocks touching. It seems to jolt Thor too and he tears himself away from Loki, panting and wide eyed.

 

“Loki-”

 

“Yes, yes!” Loki hisses before Thor can continue. He can't lose this right now. He will leave thinking for later – there was the vague plan of trapping Thor even deeper than he already dug himself, but he feels removed from the idea.

 

He is merely hopelessly attracted to the depth of Thor's want and despair and guilt and need – all mixed into one delicious cocktail. Loki was the one who created it all and it seems wasteful and ungrateful not to taste it.

 

Thor welcomes his mouth back with a low growl that resonates in his chest and it only makes Loki rub himself against the muscular planes harder. His hips are almost shyly grinding down on Thor and he doesn't remember the last time when he was this aroused. He opens his eyes to watch the open myriad of emotions that play on Thor's face. He's not really surprised to find desperation battling unadulterated bliss there. 

 

He means for bliss to win.

 

Thor's arms have long since circled Loki's torso and he is gliding his palms over the plane of Loki's back and flanks, often dipping underwater to bring the warmth up and spread it all over Loki's skin and there is a feeling of reverence in the action.

 

But it's even better when Thor finds the courage to palm and squeeze Loki's ass. Loki moans into Thor's mouth appreciatively and sneaks a hand down between them, even if it means giving up some of the friction. His nipples are hard and peaked from rubbing them over Thor's chest.

 

He tries to wrap his palm around both of their cocks, but the angle isn't perfect and he ends up only making a sort of cavern in which the heads can meet and rub against each other. It's enough.

 

Thor is choking on sounds that he isn't willing to let out and he abandons kissing Loki's mouth in favour of sucking on his neck and the edge of his jaw. Then his lips find their way to Loki's earlobe and Loki cries out unwittingly when Thor teases it with his teeth and breathes into Loki's ear at the same time – it makes the most needy sound Loki's ever heard.

 

“Oh fuck, Thor-” he pants, squeezing their cocks harder and Thor's arms around him tighten hard enough to push all breath from him and Thor goes rigid save for the jerking motions of his hips as he comes. Loki works his hand mindlessly, feeling the little spasms of Thor's orgasm resonate through his own loins until he is joining his brother and panting into his cheek.

 

The water around them slowly calms and quietens and their breaths try to follow its example. Loki straightens even as his relaxed muscles protest and smooths Thor's hair back. Thor is looking everywhere but at him and Loki grasps his chin firmly and makes him meet Loki's gaze.

 

“Any annoying comments?”

 

And Thor's face cracks in a genuine, if a little tired smile and he takes Loki by the wrist, pressing a kiss to his palm before pulling both their hands away and leaning his forehead against Loki's.

 

Eventually they get out of the bath, swaying a little while drying off and walking to bed, both from the wine and the shocking relief of climax.

 

“Good luck waking up at dawn,” Loki snickers when they crawl under the sheets, shoulders touching.

 

“I knew you had ulterior motives.” 

 

“Ruin of Asgard via the sleep deprivation of her crown prince. My best one yet.”

 

The only response he gets is the sound of steady breathing. It doesn't take him long to follow.

 

* * *

 

 

The morning finds him with a clear mind. 

 

He vaguely remembers half-waking when Thor heaved himself from bed at first light and squeezing his arm in wordless good-morning.

 

He feels somehow changed. Like something has broken free in his blood, a clot that was slowing his motions and thoughts. For the first time, he sees his situation clearly.

 

He's the spouse of the future king of Asgard, debatably one of the most powerful beings in the whole Nine realms. There is nothing stopping him from drawing advantage from that – hadn't he his whole life used the name Odinson? He sees little difference. 

 

And said spouse is willing to knock himself over trying to please him.

 

Which, as it turns out, he is more than capable of doing.

 

Loki stretches, remembering lazily the intensity of his orgasm last night. _And what we did was little more than rushed humping._

 

Then he tries to recall the feeling of Thor's fingers and cock in his ass on their wedding night and grimaces. The anger and disgust were real. He couldn't stand the idea of Thor getting what he wanted. He couldn't stand the idea of being played like this, shipped into something much worse than he was anticipating. 

 

He frowns when he realizes that almost all of the assumptions he made when Thor revealed the nature of his love were proven wrong. 

 

He thought that Thor's duplicity went right down to his core. That there was a wholly different man standing in front of him. That the husband would have nothing in common with the brother save for the face he wore. And Loki has to admit that that's not true at all. Thor remains _Thor._ The only tangible novelty Loki was faced with was Thor's vulnerability.

 

And after last night, he understands. He was drawn to Thor. He was aroused. He's enjoyed himself. He still thinks there is something slightly wrong with both of them (didn't he just make the discovery that Thor still felt like his brother and found that pleasing?), but cannot find it within himself to mind. He's who he was, only a bit more centred. He thinks it comes from the comprehension.

 

And with all pieces in his hands, it's easy to imagine how all this could play to his favour.

 

A smile tugs at his lips the whole day and a twinge of excitement comes when the sun begins to set.

 

This is going to be so much fun.

 

He keeps an ear cocked and when he hears Thor approaching, he flattens himself against the wall by the door and waits. Thor enters, his back turned to Loki and Loki pounces, his fist finding its target – Thor's ear. Then he kicks the back of Thor's knee and Thor goes down ungracefully, stunned with the hit to the head and his footing lost.

 

Loki is on him immediately, forcing him to turn over and grabbing his wrists before leaning down to bite his lower lip until he tastes blood.

 

“Hello, brother,” he murmurs in between sharply nicking at Thor's soft lips. “Missed me?”

 

Thor looks shocked for a second but then his eyes narrow and he licks his bloody lip.

 

“Very much.”

 

Thor doesn't fight him, he merely arches up to drag his hips over Loki's and leans in for a kiss, which turns out to be little more than a battle of teeth, flavoured by copper. 

 

Loki can feel Thor flexing his fists as the tendons in his wrists strain, but he doesn't try to break the hold. Loki was right to anticipate this. Thor will take anything Loki gives him. Still, he needs to be sure.

 

When he's had his fill of kissing, he sits astride Thor, not quite in his lap, but rather on his stomach, making it hard for him to breathe. He lets go of Thor's hands as well and they immediately find their way to Loki's waist, stroking and urging. He tugs off his tunic and unlaces his trousers, rucking up Thor's shirt and opening his trousers as well. Thor's hands aim for Loki's cock, but he hesitates at the last moment.

 

“May I?”

 

“No,” Loki laughs. “I have something better in mind.”

 

And just because he can, he bends down and licks at Thor's lips some more, humming in appreciation when Thor entwines his fingers in Loki's hair. Then he backs up again and shuffles on his knees until his hips are at the level of Thor's face. He leans on his forearms on the ground, far above Thor's head and puts his weight on one knee only as to not suffocate Thor completely. His other leg is thrown alongside Thor's shoulder. 

 

Thor's chuckle spills over the v of Loki's hips and the chilling sensation is soon replaced by wet, open-mouthed kisses that slowly trail towards his cock.

 

So. It seems Thor has no problem with lying on his back and having his face full of Loki's crotch. It's a ridiculous position and Loki gets a thrill from that. Thor nuzzles his hipbone and licks his way to the root of Loki's cock and then upwards towards the head and damn if that doesn't feel good. He is already enveloped in warmth, merely from Thor's breathing and he is pretty eager to find out what his mouth will feel like.

 

He gets his wish. Thor wraps both of his arms around Loki's thighs, just under his ass in a parody of hug and holds him firmly while guiding Loki's cock into his mouth.

 

“Shit,” Loki groans, looking down between his arms to see his cock disappearing between Thor's lips and down his throat. He would like to have a little more control of the thrusting, but Thor, curse him, has a smart hold on Loki and slowly heaves him up and down, his tongue and lips never stopping their busy work even as he takes Loki far down. Loki enjoys this lovely torture until he can't stand for it anymore and forcibly bucks. Even with the lack of leverage it gets him a reaction – Thor chokes slightly under him and tightens his hold, stubbornly continuing as before.

 

Loki tries a different tactic.

 

“Thor, please,” he moans and while he has an agenda, the words come easily. “Please, I need-”

 

He bites his words off as Thor sucks on the tip of his cock and then lowers Loki slowly, his lips never easing off from their tight 'o'. Again. And again.

 

The speed of his ministration increases ever so slightly until Loki feels like his body now has a momentum of its own and he would just continue rocking like a pendulum should Thor let him go. Thoughts trickle from his mind as the tension of his muscles grows and he feels himself tumbling towards the edge. He barely notices that one of Thor's arms has abandoned its hold; it makes no difference anyway; Thor is capable of manoeuvring him single-handedly.

 

He complies with what Loki's body is asking of him and his sucking intensifies until Loki is groaning and jerking against Thor's face. He shivers violently when his sensitive cock, still trapped in Thor's mouth, is teased by the vibration of Thor's groans.

 

_He came too_ , Loki realizes smugly. And it's true; when he finally rolls off Thor to sprawl on the floor, he sees that one of Thor's hands is wrapped around his own cock, streaked with come.

 

There is a bruise where on Thor's cheek right by his ear, his lips are bitten through and heavily swollen, their natural pinkness enhanced and spilling onto his complexion as a testament of rough treatment. And there is a shiny spot on Thor's chin – stray seed that he couldn't swallow.

 

Loki feels feral satisfaction at this.

 

He's filled with elation and not all of it is coming from the sex. Seeing Thor like this – he thinks he is a fool for not figuring it out sooner.

 

Then Thor looks up at him and smiles, completely oblivious and uncaring of the damage to his face (and pride, Loki would add, if it wasn't already crystal clear to him that Thor sees what they just did as merely mutually pleasurable) and there is an odd tug in Loki's belly. But he simply returns the smile and curls from his position so that he can press a kiss to Thor's hairline.

 

Thor's fingers trail over whatever bared skin he can reach and Loki lets him do it for a while.

 

“Come on. You look ready to fall asleep on the floor.”

 

“I wouldn't be surprised if I did.”

 

So they pick themselves and stagger to their feet, holding up their disarrayed, unlaced clothing. Thor follows Loki's lead into the bathroom and they wash up in silence.

 

In bed, Loki scoots into Thor's arms and gently touches his lips with the tip of his finger. Thor washed his face with cool water and the swelling is a little less for it, but he still looks ruffled. The blissful look in his eyes belies it.

 

“Why?” he murmurs into Loki's fingers. 

 

“I don't know.”

 

And Thor goes a little tense; it's probably not the answer he wanted, but Loki knows he would like the truth even less. 

 

“We are in a quite unparalleled situation,” he continues to appease Thor. “You will have to forgive me if I don't have all the answers.”

 

“But you wanted this, yes? And you enjoyed it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then that's what's important.”

 

And he says it with a sort of finally, immediately closing his eyes and clearly settling to fall asleep that Loki is left a little surprised. He thought Thor would press a little more, _ask_ for something. A reassurance. A promise.

 

He looks at Thor's sleeping face and it occurs to him that he maybe isn't the only one the Norns like to laugh at.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Loki joins Thor on the training grounds. They walk there silently side by side and it seems relaxed, except for the sidelong glance Thor gives him just before they arrive, but he never follows it up with speech.

 

Loki seats himself and watches Thor go through some exercises with young soldiers. He almost starts dozing off when the sun comes from behind a pillar and starts warming him up pleasantly.

 

“Loki!” Thor's call jolts him. He is standing in the middle of the field, grinning. “Would you join me for a bout?”

 

Loki rolls his eyes, but takes his jacket off and jumps down into the arena.

 

Thor hands him a training staff with a smile. Loki takes advantage of their closeness and speaks in a low tone, making sure none of the observers can hear. “Eager for a repeat of last night?”

 

Thor's smile grows a bit sharper and his eyes flash appreciatively over Loki's body.

 

“Ready? One, two, three-” Loki says rapidly, catching Thor off guard and going on the offensive, hard. Thor barely manages to deflect the first couple of Loki's blow and then they're off, letting themselves fall into the dance of dodging, striking and spinning.

 

Two hours later, they lean against the railing up on the arena's over walk, breathing deeply and watching a new bout take place.

 

“Well fought,” Thor teases. “You almost beat me.”

 

“Please. I had you more times than you had me.”

 

Thor coughs and Loki smirks.

 

And later, with muscles slightly aching and his body pleasantly tired, Loki realizes how good it felt to get the exercise. 

 

Which is why the following afternoon, he puts on older tunic and looser trousers and heads for the training grounds again.

 

Fandral and Hogun are there and he nods in greeting, approaching them.

 

“Loki!” Fandral drawls cheerily. “Looking for Thor?”

 

“Quite. We need a rematch.”

 

“Well, he should be here soon,” Fandral smiles. “I believe he has a meeting with Spaki.”

 

Spaki is a diplomat that Loki knows well.

 

“Would you like to spar with me for now?”

 

Loki is tempted to accept Fandral's offer, but he also wants to save his strength for Thor. “No, thank you.”

 

Fandral wanders off to coach sword fighting and Loki is left there standing with Hogun.

 

“Thor seems in good spirits.”

 

Loki looks at Hogun from the corner of his eye and searches for an answer.

 

“I hope it stays that way,” Hogun adds and walks away. Loki can't even find it in himself to be annoyed.

 

He lounges alone then, eyes scanning idly the cluster about until he does a double take and realizes something odd.

 

There stands Spaki, talking to a young man, probably his son. By the looks of it, he is asking about his progress and they chatter and smile lightly.

 

But no sign of Thor. He doesn't think much about it, even if it seems odd to him that Thor would linger elsewhere instead of coming to clear his head on the training grounds right away if his lesson is finished. Until he catches Fandral looking at him.

 

He averts his eyes hastily when he sees Loki returning his gaze and turns quickly away. Suspicion blooms in Loki's mind – something is clearly off. He stalks away from the training grounds and strides through the palace, heading towards the war chambers and libraries. He finds the wing mostly empty, save for one old scholar scribing something slowly, but there is a guard.

 

“Was prince Thor here?”

 

“Yes, my lord, he is in the main library.”

 

Loki's eyebrows ascend and he nods his thanks.

 

There is nothing stopping him from simply going into the library and seeing what Thor is doing. But the guilty slump of Fandral's shoulders is fresh in his mind and he trusts his instincts – and they are telling him to act with caution. That this is no mere matter of schedule misunderstanding. 

 

He slips through the open library door, keeping his steps light. He passes many shelves without any sight of Thor. The diplomacy department is empty and it only strengthens his conviction that Thor is up to something. He isn't doing Spaki's homework. He walks further and further, until he is at the most removed (but no less huge) part of the library and his confusion grows.

 

This is where seidr books are kept. He slinks by the walls, hidden from view and is thankful for his soft clothing that makes almost no noise. 

 

Thor is seated at a reading area, at least ten large tomes spread on the table in front of him. He isn't reading, he is searching – paging quickly through the thin pages, occasionally stopping to peruse a part with more care, but ultimately discarding it. Loki watches him through a sliver between shelves, unnoticed. Thor works his way through all the books he has taken out, then sighs and rubs his face. For a few moments, he merely stares off into space, a hint of frown creasing his forehead. Then he stands and begins clearing the books away. Loki tries his best to remember their appearance and where Thor puts them, then backs away to make sure Thor won't see him as he leaves.

 

When Thor's steps finally fade, Loki comes out from his hiding and manages to pull out six tomes he is certain that Thor was looking at.

 

A sick feeling settles at the bottom of his stomach as he looks at the titles. Each of them on their own would seem innocuous – rites, curse breaking, blood magic – but when combined, they put out a clear message. 

 

Thor is looking for a way out of this marriage. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I really, really struggled with this one, but here it is, phew.  
> Thank you all for your support. We will see how much longer this ride lasts!

Loki looks down at the books, heart pounding treacherously. He tells himself that perhaps he is mistaken, that this could be a wholly different matter, but it's futile. The idea cannot leave his mind.

 

_Why?_

 

And he's furious at himself for asking that question.

 

In this one inquiry lies the testament of fear and need and guilt. And this is not what Loki is willing to find in himself. It makes him livid with anger and desperate to strike out to rid himself of those poisons.

 

He's been cheated, _again_. Thor was false in his affections; or perhaps they quickly ran their course once Loki gave in.

 

_How can reality compare to a thousand years of fantasy?_ The thought comes unbidden and he grips the edge of a table to stop himself from lashing out in his anger and destroying everything around with his bare hands. He will not think about it this way. This is not his fault. He never asked for Thor's perverse affections and their loss should only be celebrated. 

 

What really matters to him is the potential effect on his life. Being sentenced to wedding Thor saved him from death. It's unthinkable to imagine that without the protection of this marriage, he would be able to simply walk free. 

 

But even in his rage, he finds it hard to believe that Thor would just hand him over to be executed, which is probably why he works alone and likely without Odin's knowledge. He means to rid himself of Loki and send him away, oblivious to the danger it would put Loki in.

 

_Maybe it's for the best. The Nine Realms are vast and with my magic free..._

 

_You'd be a hunted outcast with Thanos and Asgard both after you._

 

He stays in the library for hours perhaps, lost in his own trembling thoughts. The fire of his anger wanes out slowly and he is left with cold rage, the kind that only comes from betrayal. It will bring Loki great pleasure to make sure he is tethered to Thor for eternity. To make him see how it feels to be forced into a tasteless marriage. Loki is going to erase all the goodwill that they hesitantly shared. He will not hold back this time.

 

* * *

 

 

When he returns to their chambers, he is passed by a line of servants with empty dish plates and there is a generous feast for two set on the table. If Thor really went to train after he left the library, he's long since cleaned up. His hair is pulled back and he is wearing dark blue and grey, colours that flatter him. He smiles at Loki brightly and pulls a chair for him.

 

“What's this?” Loki asks pleasantly as Thor pours them wine and serves the delicacies spread in front of them.

 

“Dinner,” Thor shrugs, an almost shy smile playing on his lips. Loki pops a fig into his mouth and considers Thor.

 

“I can see that, Thor. Any particular reason? Do you perhaps have something to tell me?”

 

Thor stops cutting a piece of meat and looks up, frowning slightly. “No, I just wanted... ” He gestures slightly between himself and Loki. 

 

“Ah, little romance then,” Loki says, not quite trying to keep the derision from his voice. Thor's face falls completely and he puts his knife down.

 

“I see that it's not a thought you appreciate.”

 

“No, you are mistaken, I think it's _lovely_ , I just have my doubts about for whose benefit you are doing this.”

 

Thor's face hardens just a fraction and he straightens in his chair. _Got you_ , Loki thinks.

 

“Our shared benefit. That's the nature of these things,” Thor tells him stiffly. 

 

“What you want and what I want will never be the same. There is nothing _shared_ between us. That is something you have proven to me over and over again with straight-forwardness that only a mule like you could achieve.”

 

Thor's jaw is flexing visibly. Loki is savagely pleased to see the anger behind the unwitting movement. He will not tolerate this duplicity any longer. Thor owes him the ugly truth at last.

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

“I don't care. Our little liaisons are over. So you can cut out the grand gestures,” Loki smiles sharply and gets up from the table, walking towards the balcony. He didn't realize how much he wanted to some fresh air until he gets a sweet lungful. 

 

He can hear Thor's footsteps behind him as he leans on the railing and ignores him ostentatiously. Then two hesitant, gentle hands are on his shoulders.

 

“Get your hands off me.”

 

The light pressure immediately disappears. “Sorry,” Thor murmurs.

 

Loki just keeps staring forward, the back of his neck itching as feels Thor still standing there, hovering and waiting.

 

“Is it something I've done?” he asks and the ruined, despondent tone is by now quite familiar to Loki.

 

Loki turns to him and sneers. “Do you want a list?”

 

Thor shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. Loki is sorely tempted to beat him bloody.

 

“I'm such a fool,” Thor whispers, talking more to himself than to Loki.

 

“Suddenly it doesn't seem like a good idea to chain me to yourself, does it?”

 

“I should have been prepared for this. But I- and to think that I have been... ”

 

Loki doesn't particularly follow this train of thought, but it makes no matter to him. Loki has come to appreciate that his brother is a mess. He doesn't know what he wants. But it makes no difference to Loki in the end. He will not be jeopardized by Thor's confusion. 

 

“You should rejoice,” he tells Thor before he leaves. “Maybe it means there is still some hope for you, even if no one will ever know.”

 

* * *

 

 

In the next weeks, Loki starts to doubt himself. Starts to doubt what he saw and what he thought it meant.

 

Thor doesn't go back to the library – or, if he does, he does it in a way that escapes Loki's most thorough surveillance. His brother fulfils his duties, exercises with his friends, then comes to their chambers only to act in a way that reminds Loki of the very first weeks of their marriage – avoidance and silence ruling over all else.

 

But despite the lack of evidence, Thor's behaviour only strengthens Loki's conviction that his original suspicion was correct. That Thor has sobered up from his fantasies and his feeling of self-righteousness.

 

He doesn't try to talk to Loki, much less touch him. 

 

Doesn't ask for explanation of what might have seemed as a rather sudden rejection.

 

Stops all his attempts at courting Loki (and it's humiliating to notice the lack of it when he didn't even see it when it was happening, but he still does). 

 

He's sitting in a garden with his mother, sullenly sipping tea. She has stopped talking a while ago and is merely watching him now. Waiting for him to speak. 

 

“Thor is searching for a way to put an end to our marriage,” he blurts out finally.

 

“That hardly seems believable,” she responds, seemingly unconcerned. “Why would he do that?”

 

“I think the better question is why would he not?” Loki frowns. That amuses her for some reasons and she pats his arm gently.

 

“Aren't you a little too hard on yourself?”

 

He flushes in anger when he realizes she decided to deliberately twist his words.

 

“I'm sorry, Loki,” she soothes before he can speak. “But I sincerely doubt you are right. Your life would be in danger if you were no longer married.”

 

She frowns slightly in thought. “And I don't believe there _is_ a way to end it.”

 

“Well, that's what he is doing,” Loki insists, swirling a spoon in his cup, quite aware that it came out much more petulant that he would like. He knows it's ironic, but he is pleased by her confirmation that he is right to worry for his life, that he isn't seeing this unnecessarily grimly. 

 

“And you are hurt.”

 

She says it softly, but it's not a question.

 

“I am not,” he scoffs. “I want nothing more than to get away from him. But his secrecy is annoying.”

 

She gives him a long, hard look that clearly says she doesn't believe him.

 

“And have you talked to him about this? Asked his reasons?”

 

“I don't need to speak to Thor to know his mind.”

 

Frigga laughs out loud at this. “Oh, Loki.”

 

And while he does his best to hide it, he is angry at her, which doesn't happen very often. His whole life he could come to her for advice and mostly got it, even when Thor was the centre of his trouble. Now it seems this has changed. 

 

She was the one who told him to appreciate Thor's regard for him and he listened – and where did that bring him? He drinks his tea and steers the conversation away as best as he can, further enraged by her apparent indulgence and he is unusually eager to get away. He will not disrespect her and take his anger out on her, no.

 

He has a much better target.

 

And after all, he will only be doing what she asked of him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thor,” Loki says sharply, stepping into Thor's way when he finally comes in. Thor stops and waits, dragging his gaze from the floor to meet Loki's eye. “I have a gift for you.”

 

Loki brings his hand up and shows Thor a dagger he is holding. Thor stiffens lightly, but then Loki turns it in his palm so that the blade is facing the floor and offers the hilt to Thor.

 

“What are you doing?” Thor sighs, taking the weapon. It's clear that this is no gift – it's a regular, used dagger. Loki has dozens of them.

 

“Making things easier for you. Well, no,” he adds, rolling his eyes. “That's not true. I am making things more... honest for you. See the irony?”

 

Thor looks to the side. “Loki, speak plainly. I have no idea what games you are playing and no strength left to guess.”

 

“If you are so set on killing me, I would rather you have my literal blood on your hands, not just figurative.”

 

Thor jerks at this and his mouth falls open. “Killing you? What are you talking about?”

 

“Oh, I don't know what I hate more, your stupidity or your selfishness,” Loki growls and he has to admit that this feels good. He's been swallowing his anger all this time – rage at being so easily discarded, with the lacing of humiliation that he just couldn't suppress. He planned this, yes, his actions and words are meant to _provoke,_ to hurt, but he is not pretending and he doesn't need to go far for the words. Ice flows through his veins at the sight of Thor – his face, his eyes, even his height drum on Loki's consciousness and hasten the flow.

 

He grabs the hand in which Thor is still holding the dagger and pulls it towards his own neck.

 

“Go on,” he spits. “Stop pretending. My life means nothing to you, so stop being a coward and a liar for the first time in your pathetic life.”

 

“Loki, enough!”

 

Thor wrenches his hand away from Loki's neck and Loki punches him in the face for it, the line of his logic lost for the moment. Another blow disarms Thor and the dagger is back in Loki's hand.

 

He slams into Thor, pushing him against a table. “I thought you couldn't get any lower with your deviance. And yet you prove me wrong. For a second there, I believed that even if it was unnatural, at least your affection was true. But you used me, Thor, nothing more. You _used_ me.” 

 

And he is screaming at the end, his free hand clawing at Thor's throat and he doesn't see clearly. It doesn't matter to him that he is revealing the truth, his weakness. He needs to get it out, scream it all out so that maybe, maybe Thor might finally listen. Thor struggles against him, but there his hardly any strength behind his movements. And a beastly feeling seizes Loki, desire to push and break, so that it can't ever be fixed again. He rotates his wrist in a practised motion and plunges the dagger right above Thor's thigh, sinking it deep into his loins. Thor yelps, such a tiny sound compared to the viciousness of the blow and he bends over, almost falling on top of Loki.

 

Then Loki feels his wrist almost breaking when Thor circles his hand around it and yanks the dagger from his flesh, twisting Loki's arm until he drops it and makes a sound of pain.

 

But that's not the end of it – Thor returns one of the many punches he's been dealt in the previous months and Loki tastes blood, shocked.

 

“Stop,” Thor shouts and seizes him by the shoulders, shaking him hard. “Stop this right now and tell me just what the Hel do you imagine I've done.”

 

“As if you don't know!” Loki spits. “Do I really have to remind you that you have been trying to get rid of me? Tell me, are you too stupid to realize that it would cost me my life or do you just not care?”

 

“Get rid- oh. Oh, Loki, no...”

 

Thor lets him go abruptly and steps away, shaking his head all the while. 

 

“You know I've looked into the the magic of the ceremony that bound us then, yes?”

 

“And into breaking it. So what happened? Discovered that fucking your brother wasn't as much fun as you have always imagined it to be?”

 

“Loki...” Thor puts his head into his hands for just a moment. “Loki, it was for the future... I thought that once I am king, I would have the power the undo the bond... and ask you to marry me again.”

 

Loki goes still and uninterrupted silence fills the room. _No._

 

But Thor goes on.

 

“It was a fool's errand, I know. After we... well I thought that maybe this wasn't quite as hopeless. That in time, we might even grow to be happy and... Loki, you are all but my prisoner. And in that moment of elation, I imagined a better future and... I wanted us to stand on equal ground.”

 

Loki turns on his heel and clamps a hand over his mouth.

 

_No._

 

He's distantly aware that he is shaking and that his vision is swimming. 

 

Because it's too much. Because he doesn't understand. Because everything he's done has been futile.

 

He's been wrong, _again_. And Thor stands with him, blameless, but this time, it doesn't bring Loki the jealous distaste it usually does. It brings him relief and wholly unacceptable feeling of unworthiness. 

 

And he cannot escape the gravity of Thor's intention. It was an idea born out of happiness; guileless, but honest. Striving to give Loki back everything he's been robbed off.

 

“Loki-” Thor sounds hesitant, but Loki can also tell that he is close, approaching Loki and he can't have that. One of his hands flies up, making a stopping motion. 

 

“I'm sorry if you believed I was trying to dismiss you,” Thor whispers.

 

And Loki still feels it, the icy rage from moments before, except that now it chills him to the core instead of spurring him on. He is glad he has turned away from Thor because he doesn't believe he could stand the sight of him now. He's helpless in the face of him, no matter how hard he's tried to fight him – now and ever before. 

 

Thor hasn't managed to truly do anything to make Loki hate him – but no, that's not correct. Loki _does_ hate Thor, but this hate has never managed to win over the love and this is Loki's undoing. 

 

On their wedding night, Thor gave him a weapon capable of slaying him and Loki hesitated before dealing the final blow. He backed off. He stopped before Thor could be truly ruined, shattered under the weight of his guilt. And Loki went and teased him from that shell of pain and shame and started something new, something fresh, if no less dangerous.

 

But this game required Loki to give something of himself as well and at the first sign that Thor might be misusing it (which he wasn't, damn that noble idiot), he panicked and tried to burn all the bridges.

 

And how here he is, exposed and lost, shaken by the force of his own reaction. 

 

He repeatedly assumes the worst and Thor repeatedly shows him the best.

 

_Why?_

 

He is still searching for the courage to face Thor again, to even move, when a quiet grunt jolts him and he turns around automatically. Thor is standing in the middle of the room, slightly bent over and Loki realizes that the rooms smells heavily of copper and Thor's trousers are glistening with blood. But still, Thor is looking at him, ignoring the wound save for the slight hunch in his posture to relieve the pain. Loki moves without meaning to.

 

“Oh, I-” 

 

The apology doesn't quite pass his lips, but he seizes Thor gently by the shoulders and backs him towards a chair, unlacing his trousers before making Thor sit down, which he does with a little hiss and he arches his back to ease the pressure.

 

Loki searches for their pouch with healing stones, but his hands are shaking and it takes him a while to find them. When he finally does, he hurries back to Thor and crouches down on his knees in front of him.

 

The wound is deep and ugly and goes through sensitive muscle and tendons. Thor is a little pale, a subtle sign of what he otherwise belies by his calm silence; he is in pain and losing a lot of blood. Loki carefully grinds the stone in his fist, making sure the dust falls precisely at the centre of the wound. Thor lets out a sigh of relief. When the last specks of magic are absorbed, Loki waits for a while, not taking his gaze of the bloody, but now whole skin and then touches it lightly, checking if it healed well. The stone did its work and Thor is fine, but Loki keeps on gently pressing and poking, stalling.

 

Thor reaches for him after a couple of moments, sweeping his thumb over the corner of Loki's lip and he is surprised to find it sore.

 

“Sorry,” Thor murmurs and Loki snorts. 

 

“You are a fool.”

 

Thor's hand moves impossibly slowly upwards and soon Loki feels wetness being spread over his cheek with the flat of Thor's thumb.

 

_Oh damn._

 

Thor wipes the tears from Loki's other cheek as well and he just sags there on the floor, unable to lift his gaze.

 

“What happened?” Thor enquires, voice earnest but gentle.

 

Loki shakes his head. 

 

_I realized I am a foolish weakling who needs you._

 

“Bath?” he says instead, finally looking up. His voice cracks even on such a short word. Thor nods and they fumble with each other – Thor trying to pull Loki from the floor and Loki trying to support Thor should he feel dizzy. It brings sad smiles to their faces. 

 

The hot water drains away some of the tension Loki feels and he helps Thor wash the blood away before slotting himself into his arms, shamelessly.

 

Thor entangles his legs with Loki's and pulls him close, arms wound about Loki's shoulders and they float, their entire bodies soothed by the warmth. 

 

“Loki, please.”

 

“Don't. I'm... I'm sorry.”

 

The apology alone costs him almost more than he is willing to give. He can't explain himself on top of it, but thankfully Thor relents.

 

He feels empty. Hollow. So much rage and fear was torn out from him in that single moment of comprehension and suddenly there is nothing left. This emptiness seems familiar and he shudders in Thor's embrace (which tightens when Thor feels it) when he remembers why – he felt the same when he let go of the Bifrost.

 

When the consequences overwhelmed him. When he had nothing left to fight with.

 

This is surrender too, clearly, but it would be outlandish to continue the comparison. Before, he fell into the void. Now the only place he can fall into are Thor's arms.

 

And isn't that poetic. 

 

He's not aware of his own self-deprecating chuckle until Thor ducks his head in an odd angle to catch a glimpse of Loki's face, expression puzzled.

 

“You win,” he tells him. Thor goes a bit tense and it's not surprising. Loki is aware how he sounds.

 

“You are so disgustingly obstinate. You wore me down. Congratulations.”

 

Thor catches on and laughs. “Well, let us see what you will be saying next week.”

 

“Ah, I suppose I deserve that.”

 

He twists in Thor's arms to peck him on the cheek and Thor cards fingers through his hair slowly, gazing at the opposite wall in thought. Loki just watches him until he shakes it off.

 

“Shall we go?” 

 

In bed, Thor turns from him and Loki doesn't begrudge that. He's not surprised that Thor would be a little distant, but oddly, it doesn't bother him. He doesn't need words for this, or promises.

 

He just twines himself around his brother's broader back and settles his mouth against Thor's shoulder, pleasantly surprised by this position. Thor seems to share this thought, judging by his wondering hum.

 

_Empty. Empty, but light._

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finish as we started, in Thor's head.

Something slowly trickles into Thor's consciousness; a feeling. There is warmth and also-

 

His eyes snap open and he jerks his head up only to be greeted by a rather shocking sight.

 

Loki's dark head is slowly bobbing up and down between Thor's legs.

 

Thor lets his head fall back into the pillow and stares at the ceiling.

 

There is pleasure coiling at the very center of his being, the warmth that woke him is coming from Loki's mouth which is tightly wrapped around his cock as he gently coaxes Thor from sleep and into full hardness. Loki's hands are lightly curled around Thor's hips, stroking him in sync with the movements of his tongue. He takes his time; the caresses are lazy, languid and Thor shudders when Loki all but burrows his face in between Thor's thighs, nuzzling the root of his cock and then unbearably slowly licks his way to the head and presses an open mouthed kiss to it, the tip of his tongue sneaking out to tease the slit.

 

Not so long ago, Thor would have said that this is Valhalla to him, but now, even as he lies back and feels the bliss spreading through his veins, feels the pulse of blood filling his cock, feels the tightening that promises a delicious release, there is a weight on his chest and he has to mask a rueful sigh as a moan.

 

Just another game.

 

Loki will give this to him and then snatch it away. And yet, the knowledge of this is not enough to make Thor stop him.

 

_You deserve it_ , a voice whispers in his mind and he squeezes his eyes shut. _This and more. Even if he plunged a dagger straight into your heart if would not be penance enough. You are a monster._

 

The grasp of Loki's hands tightens and he lifts himself up just a little and then lowers his head, taking Thor far into his throat, going further and further until a little choking sound escapes him and he retreats, only to try again.

 

Thor makes himself watch.

 

He remembers what it felt like to have Loki's cock deep in his throat as Loki accosted him and threw him on the floor all those weeks ago. How he loved it – the demanding presence, the taste, the warmth. He had wrapped his arms around the beautiful curve of Loki's ass and brought him close, revelling in it and even now he doesn't doubt Loki enjoyed himself, though it was likely nothing but a game to him, a show of power. 

 

But Thor had been more than happy to give it to him, ecstatic with their new found intimacy, violent as it was. And then he... began to hope, fool that he is.

 

Loki slides his mouth all the way up on Thor's pulsing cock, his neck arching into an elegant curve and he suckles on the head before letting it escape from between his lips with a wet sound. He looks up at Thor, eyes sparkling and his red, shiny lips quirk into a teasing smile before he bends forward again.

 

He doesn't know if Loki truly thought Thor wished to undo their marriage. If he really was hurt by the idea. It seems equally likely to him that Loki simply took it as an excuse to create a rift between them again – because how could Loki possibly doubt Thor's love?

 

_You know how._

 

But then he remembers the way Loki fell apart the day before. How all the screamed accusations spoke of one thing – hurt. Betrayal. 

 

_You used me_ , Loki had told him. _I thought you loved me and you used me._ And Thor wants this. He wants to know that Loki values his love, no matter what else he does or feels.

 

Loki wraps his fist tightly around Thor's cock and strokes it in time with his sucking, twisting his wrist to perfectly expose the head and attack it with licks and even a hint of teeth.

 

“Loki-” Thor warns, tumbling towards the edge all of a sudden. Loki pulls off, speeding up the movements of his hand and the last thing Thor sees before the orgasm overtakes him and he closes his eyes is Loki staring down hungrily. 

 

His belly and chest are splattered with come and he shudders, taking Loki by the wrist and draws him away when the touch becomes too much.

 

Loki lies on his side, head propped up, and watches as Thor struggles to calm his breathing, spread out on his back. A smirk that threatens to turn into a genuine smile plays on Loki's lips and he reaches out, dragging the tip of his index finger through the drying mess on Thor's skin.

 

“Tsk. Such waste.”

 

“I don't see how that's my fault,” Thor says with his eyes closed, relaxed enough to slip into banter, even as he waits for Loki's next step.

 

“Oh please. I wouldn't want you to rupture something if I gave you the... full treatment, shall we say.”

 

That makes Thor laugh – because he will take his blessings as they come and good-natured teasing, something so reminiscent of the brother he thought he lost, is certainly one of them – and he turns to reply something, but his tongue stumbles on the words as he is suddenly faced with a light smile on Loki's face hovering just a couple of inches away.

 

“What are you doing?” he says instead and it comes out a little sharper than he would have liked.

 

Loki's smile fades, but he looks calm and he gazes at Thor steadily.

 

“I told you. Will you make me repeat my words? My apologies?”

 

“No, of course not, I'm sorry,” Thor says, remembering himself. This is his burden.

 

And yet.

 

He wipes his front with an edge of a sheet and pulls Loki close, seeking his lips in a deep kiss. It's hard to think straight when he tastes the little puffs of breath Loki moans out or when his tongue darts out to meet Thor's. But he has a goal.

 

He thoroughly maps Loki's jaw and his neck, all the way up to the softness of his earlobe (he does remember the reaction he got when he paid attention to the spot before) and back down to the collarbone, where he sucks a bruise. And from there, the closeness to Loki's nipples is too much to resists and he sucks on the peaks until they're hard and straining in his mouth.

 

He slides his hand down the length of Loki's torso and caresses the inside of his thighs, then he teases Loki with light, tickling touches over his hipbones.

 

“Thor,” Loki complains and arches his back. Only then does he circle Loki's already more than half-hard cock in his palm and gives it a few tugs, his lips still busy pleasuring every inch of skin he can reach. Loki all but purrs in contentment and Thor hides a smile.

 

He begins to stroke Loki slowly, trying his hardest to pay attention to even the slightest hints Loki gives him with his little breaths and moans and works steadily to bring him as much pleasure as he can. After a while, when he thinks Loki is properly lost in the feeling, he stops kissing him and simply looks.

 

He wants – no, he _needs_ to see.

 

Loki is on his back, one hand curled around Thor's bicep, the other grasping emptily in the sheets. But it's his face that interests Thor the most. He circles the pad of his thumb over the wet head of Loki's cock and Loki's mouth falls open in a slight 'oh.'

 

“Look at me,” Thor demands, tightening his grip.

 

Loki's eyes blink open and he focuses on Thor slowly. Thor gives him a quick kiss, but withdraws to watch.

 

He's looking for a drop of honesty. Of true desire. Of, Norns help him, love.

 

Loki twists and shakes under him, eager and vocal. Beautiful. Thor slowly takes him apart with his hand, always slowing when he feels Loki might find release and then speeding again to keep him on the edge.

 

When a droplet of sweat rolls down Loki's temple and onto the pillow, Thor shuffles so that he leans over Loki and cups Loki's cheek with his free hand, petting him gently.

 

“Brother,” Thor whispers and Loki whines, closing his eyes.

 

“Brother, look at me,” Thor repeats and Loki's eyes snap open, hazy. But his grip on Thor's arm tightens and he pushes his hips up desperately to meet Thor's fist.

 

“Thor- ah!”

 

Thor speeds up until Loki is panting and tensing up and then finally, with a loud cry, arching up and pulsing in Thor's palm, covering his hand and his own belly in seed.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes and Thor feels wide grin splitting his own face. Loki takes no more than five deep breaths and then he is catching Thor by the hair, flipping them over and straddling him.

 

“Is this what you want?” he hisses, still flushed. “A reassurance? A promise? Then you shall have it, brother.”

 

And he kisses Thor with bruising force, all teeth and demanding tongue, grinding their damp cocks together.

 

“You are stuck with me,” he breathes into Thor's mouth. “As I am stuck with you.”

 

And this is all Thor needs for the moment. This is more than Loki has given him in months.

 

_Something shared._ Loki and he, side by side in this mess. As they were thousand times before.

 

He pulls Loki on top of himself so that they're flush together and lets his hands roam freely over the expanse of Loki's back.

 

“Please,” he murmurs, hardly knowing why.

 

“I know,” Loki croons into Thor's ear and they both still after a while, belatedly relaxing after the exertion. Loki's face is pressed into Thor's neck and he listens to his breathing, feels Loki's heartbeat against his own and yes, he might even be so daring as to call _this_ Valhalla.

 

But the rising sun keeps nagging at him – he needs to leave, he has duties to attend to, but he only gets up with the deepest regret. Loki doesn't make it any easier for him, spread out naked on the sheets and grazing his fingers tirelessly over Thor's skin.

 

He dresses under Loki's watchful gaze, but he can't bring himself to meet his eyes. 

 

He's afraid that when he gets back, everything will be different.

 

He hesitates by the door, finally turning to Loki who arches a questioning eyebrow at him.

 

“Do you ever tire of this brooding?”

 

“Do you ever tire of your games?” Thor shoots back, rattled by his own worries.

 

“Ah, but at least I know how to play new ones, whilst your stormy brow remains ever the same,” Loki purrs, folding his arms behind his head. 

 

“Well then, your newest game best be to bring a smile to my face,” Thor tells him in his best falsely careless tone and to his relief, Loki laughs. To his own ears, he sounded way too daring.

 

“Go. I will consider your suggestion as I lie here...” Loki drops his voice lower and trails a hand down his chest. “Naked and bored.”

 

Thor can hear his pulse quickening and he all but runs from the room.

 

* * *

 

He is useless at all his appointments that day. He cannot even put a name to what is it that he feels – trepidation, hope, fear, excitement, guilt all warring within him until he is nothing but strung up mess.

 

He doesn't think he deserves Loki's love but he desires it above all else.

 

He doesn't want to insult his brother by not trusting the genuineness of his apology, but he knows that Loki has fooled him many times before.

 

He wants to slip back between the sheets and make Loki scream in pleasure until he reminds himself what he has done to him on that very bed.

 

And these thoughts don't disappear even after he comes back that evening, steeled for the worst and is greeted by a quiet smile and a conversation that doesn't end in shouts. They don't disappear the night that Loki wraps his legs around Thor's neck and shouts as Thor swallows him down.

 

They don't disappear even as Loki throws his arm around Thor's shoulders, face flushed with wine, and continues vigorously telling a tale to their friends one evening in a tavern as everybody in earshot doubles over laughing. 

 

The day he is crowned king he tells Loki that his magic, _all_ of his magic is free for him to use as he pleases. It's not an impulsive decision. He's been turning the idea in his mind ever since his failed attempt to find a way to break the vile bond. This seemed like an suitable alternative. As king of Asgard, he has the power to protect Loki if he gets himself into trouble, provided that Loki doesn't deal with the trouble on his own, of course. Which should be easy for him with his powers at their peak.

 

Of course, he convinces himself that he is ready for the possible fall out. Ready for Loki to turn against him.

 

Loki watches him mutely after he speaks the words and then he looks down at his hands, as if in wonder, before currents of power spring from his fingers and the entirety of their rooms light up – every torch and candle is lit and there is a glow in the air itself. Upon closer examination, Thor sees the tiniest specks of light glittering in every inch of the space. A tree grows inside the bath. All of Thor's leggings, folded in the closet, become soft silk stockings in various shades of red and pink. Two chairs sprout antlers and chase each other across the room.

 

But that's all.

 

And it gets easier after that. With every moment that Loki spends by Thor's side even though he is able to leave, with every moment that he spends whispering counsel into Thor's ear instead of bringing ruin to Asgard, with every touch he grants Thor instead of tearing him apart, he lets himself believe.

 

* * *

 

He comes to their rooms one day, tired beyond bearing and eager to forget everything in the warmth of Loki's embrace, even if just for the night. He sees his brother standing before an empty hearth.

 

Loki hears him approaching and turns, making a gentle motion to stop him from coming any closer.

 

“My apologies,” he says and he sounds off, though Thor can't tell why exactly.

 

“What's wrong?” he asks, heart filling with the old dread.

 

“There are things I need to do. I will be back.”

 

“Where are you going?” Thor demands, but deep down, he knows it's futile. Loki's gaze is turned towards Thor's face, but he isn't _looking_ at him.

 

“I'm already gone.”

 

Thor nods, swallowing hard. He has grown to recognize Loki's doubles. “Will you... will you come back?”

 

He voice almost breaks and his fists are clenching in an unsatisfactory attempt to stop his body from trembling.

 

“I will.” The image Loki is projecting doesn't hesitate in its reply. “Don't waste your time looking for me, brother. I will be back when I need to.”

 

Thor nods again. “Be careful.”

 

Loki's double smiles and it seems so genuine that Thor feels a little comforted. Then the double comes closer, walking through Thor until the image simmers away and dissolves into nothing but fading specks of green.

 

Thor goes through the motions of getting ready to sleep, missing Loki's presence at every steps and lies down, burrowing his face in a pillow and willing himself to _believe_.

 

These happy months made him selfish. Soft. Not ready. 

 

Loki's absence and the fear of losing him remind him of the depth of his need. And that reminds him that he has no right to desire what he does and it's the old hopeless circle all over again.

 

Summer ends and fall brings more rain than usual, courtesy of Thor's thoughts that often leave him unable to stop the downpour. His friends send him looks full of worry, but mostly they don't dare approach him with questions. That's both a curse and a blessing. He wishes nothing more than to finally unburden all of his thoughts and fears, but it's all but impossible. He pretends that Loki is away on his own orders to keep the whispers to minimum. Pretends he doesn't miss him terribly. The only person who knows the truth is his Mother and over the months, he spends more than a few moments in her warm embrace, drawing strength from her faith when his own abandons him.

 

* * *

 

And then, finally, he enters his, _their_ , rooms one night and knows that something is different. It's not just instinct – he can feel something and... the air. It's warmer and a bit moist. 

 

He walks through the chambers and the sensation grows stronger until he is finally at the source. The bathroom door is cracked open and beyond is something quite reminiscent of a hot sauna – mist and warmth and in the midst of it is Loki, floating on his back in the tub. 

 

Thor stands on the threshold, his heartbeat speeding up almost painfully. 

 

“Loki,” he chokes out and his brother rises his head from the water.

 

“Ah, you're here early. Not shrinking your duties I hope?”

 

Thor opens his mouth furtively, at loss for words.

 

Amusement is clearly visible on Loki's face and he flicks his fingers. Thor can only yelp as the the damp air suddenly wraps around him – Loki has stripped him of his clothing.

 

“Might as well join me.”

 

And something changes in Thor – something breaks... no, something sprouts in him, like a plant from seed, and it grows, healthy and strong. He enters the bathtub and pulls Loki into his arms, pressing them together in the hot water and kisses Loki deeply, tasting the clean droplets on his lips. He sucks and nibs and licks until all he tastes is Loki.

 

“I've missed you,” he murmurs into Loki's neck and promptly sucks a mark into the same spot.

 

Loki hums in agreement, his legs wrapped around Thor's waist. Thor pulls back just a fraction to get a good look at Loki's face and he grins widely.

 

“It's good to see you,” he tells Loki and strokes his cheek.

 

“I shouldn't tell you the same,” Loki teases. “You have enough sycophants at your heels, my king.”

 

And when he finally manages to coax Loki out of the bath, he spreads him on the bed, settling himself between his thighs and lies silently with his head pillowed on Loki's breast, listening to his heartbeat.

 

“Do you have tales to tell or will you guard your secrets?” he asks before nuzzling Loki's skin, taking in the missed scent.

 

Loki cards his fingers lightly through Thor's hair and he pushes into the touch, aware that he acts like a needy cat.

 

“Both actually.”

 

“Very well,” Thor smiles and turns his head enough to plant kisses over Loki's collarbones.

 

“You seem different,” Loki notes after a few minutes of this lazy pleasure. “Happy.”

 

“You were gone and now you are back,” Thor replies simply. He probably wouldn't be able to explain himself even if he wanted. He's simply... not afraid anymore.

 

He was reminded of who Loki is. Of his strength. Or the multitude of his facets, talents, wishes.

 

“Indeed. Did you doubt my word?”

 

Thor cocks his head at Loki and considers his answer. “I didn't doubt you. I doubted myself.”

 

And Loki seems to understand. He gives Thor a small nod and tugs him higher, until Thor is leaning on his arms above Loki and they are watching each other closely.

 

Then Thor drops his head and captures Loki's lips in a slow kiss, keeping his breathing steady for as long as he can manage, until Loki is squeezing his arms too hard and his hips find a stubborn rhythm, trying to tease Thor from this listlessness.

 

But Thor resists for the moment, stroking Loki's tongue with his own, until Loki lets go of his arms and pinches Thor's ass, laughing into his mouth when he yelps. Then Loki takes advantage of Thor's spluttering and sneaks a hand between their bodies, aligning their cocks together and stroking them both. They are warm and a little damp from the bath and drops of pre-spending soon ease the way of Loki's hand, mingling together and slicking the motions. 

 

Thor comes first, too starved and tense to last and then watches as Loki squeezes his eyes shut in bliss when Thor wraps his own hand around Loki's cock and works him towards release, not holding back or teasing this time.

 

“Darling,” he whispers into Loki's ear when Loki bucks and shouts out a muffled curse, unable to stop the current of affection. “Brother.”

 

“You have a peculiar use for that word,” Loki murmurs in between deep breaths, but he sounds amused, not angry.

 

“Well, my brother is a peculiar creature,” Thor tells him fondly and Loki smacks him for it, opening his eyes and relaxing under Thor's weight.

 

“I am, aren't I?” Loki sighs thoughtfully. “I never thought... but here I am. But I think you are _entirely_ to blame.”

 

“If you were anything other than you are, we wouldn't be here.”

 

Loki tenses for a second and Thor runs the words over in his mind, searching for the fault, but then Loki grows soft, pliant against Thor again and a small chuckle reverberates in his chest.

 

“I digress. Now, what trouble have you gotten yourself into while I was gone?”

 

“Me? You're the one who has been running across the Nine realms. I merely... ruled,” he finishes lamely and Loki shakes with laughter.

 

“Yes, which is precisely why I asked.”

 

Thor silences him with a kiss and Loki retaliates by pinching Thor nipple, which leads to more kissing and more jostling, until they are flushed and breathing hard, laughter having long since slipped from their lips and given way to something much more intense.

 

Thor wants to say something; a reassurance, a plea, an apology all fighting for their way out, but Loki interjects before he can decide on one.

 

“We live, Thor.”

 

He nods.

 

Yes, they live. That is the crux of it. They make mistakes, but ultimately keep moving forward.

 

It's enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's it!  
> You all have my tremendous gratitude for all the positive feedback. I never expected this story to do so well and I am frankly still totally blown away by the response. So thank you all so much.
> 
> I hope the end is not a disappointment - I don't know if you expected the story to go on longer or not, but this is what I wanted to do, this is what is in my power.


End file.
